My dear X:
Thank you for wanting to wish me on my birthday. And for wishing me on new year's. And telling me about your vacation plans. And your reading list. And the name of your poodle.
And the name of your wife. And the link to her blog.
What exactly were you thinking? Was it a case of one upmanship, a so-what-if-you-write-so-does-she and look-what-a-kool-wife-I-got? If that's the case, good for both of you, says moi.
But if I know you (and I could be horribly mistaken here), this wasn't about scoring a point. So what, then? Possibly it was just a polite bringing-two-bloggers-together. But did you really think that I would visit the link, read her posts, drop her a note about her Wodehouse-ish wit or Kafka-esque insights? And she would reply in kind, one of us would invite the other for coffee, and we would soon become bossom buddies who would exchange notes on a myriad topics ranging from the best way to make prawn curry to how you are in bed? And we would all live happily ever after.
Of course. Except that you forgot to pay heed to Ms Parker's wise words : Shoot if you must, but hold in view; Women and elephants never forget.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Through the looking glass
I started blogging towards the end of 2005 at what seemed, at that point at least, to be a particularly low time in my life (yes, some clichés are true, all it takes is pressure and time to forget, if not forgive). Till then, my pet strategy when faced with such difficult situations had been to run away to a new place - and it had always worked. This time, however, I was faced with a dilemma – I liked Bangalore and did not want to abandon it. More importantly, I did not want to run away.
So I dropped anchor. But shorn of my usual armor, I needed diversions to cope. A friend suggested blogging. What will I write about? I wondered aloud. It comes on its own, you’ll find it therapeutic, he reassured me.
Short on options, I decided to give it a shot. I certainly did not believe I would last beyond a few posts, much less that I would have a little less than a hundred posts over three erratic years of blogging (yes, I am trumpeting my perseverance ;-). So I am tempted to indulge myself by reflecting on the years since my first declaration that “2005 will go down as the year of losing faith for me”.
2006 was the year of renewal. The unexpected shock – learning to cope with its presence; constantly preparing ourselves for the worst; desperately, desperately hoping for a miracle each time we met a doctor; the relief and joy at survival… it challenged how we would function as a family, and in doing so changed our lives and each one of us in incontrovertible ways. Looking back, I realize that it also provided me with a much needed ‘new battle to fight’ - something that occupied my energies so completely that I had neither opportunity nor inclination to dwell upon the past. The disappointments of the previous year appeared insignificant, even ridiculous, compared with what we were facing now. And so overcoming the disease also came to represent a symbolic victory of sorts…as S rightly remarked, this was the year I found myself.
2007 was certainly the year of celebration. I was so exhausted with the stress – both physical and mental – of the previous year that I just wanted to go out and celebrate life. I had never come this close to mortality – and while it made me not afraid to die, it also made me happy to be alive. So we did numerous places in and around Bangalore and of course – Kanha, London, Normandy, Belgium, Amsterdam, Thailand & Singapore. Most certainly the year of travel.
Which brings me to 2008. A tough cookie, this one – for I still can’t figure out what 2008 was about. Singapore, Costa Rica, Coorg, Tranquebar & Shekhawati notwithstanding, this certainly wasn’t the year of travel - I’m extremely disappointed at not having traveled to a new country this year, the first time this has happened in six years! No life changing love, and so no losing of faith; no insurmountable obstacles, and so no major triumphs to be proud of. Yes, there were some challenges on the home front, but I guess I’m getting used to them now. I hate to admit it, but it was a year that was possibly more interesting on the professional front than on the personal one. It was a year of driftwood…a very ordinary year.
So I dropped anchor. But shorn of my usual armor, I needed diversions to cope. A friend suggested blogging. What will I write about? I wondered aloud. It comes on its own, you’ll find it therapeutic, he reassured me.
Short on options, I decided to give it a shot. I certainly did not believe I would last beyond a few posts, much less that I would have a little less than a hundred posts over three erratic years of blogging (yes, I am trumpeting my perseverance ;-). So I am tempted to indulge myself by reflecting on the years since my first declaration that “2005 will go down as the year of losing faith for me”.
2006 was the year of renewal. The unexpected shock – learning to cope with its presence; constantly preparing ourselves for the worst; desperately, desperately hoping for a miracle each time we met a doctor; the relief and joy at survival… it challenged how we would function as a family, and in doing so changed our lives and each one of us in incontrovertible ways. Looking back, I realize that it also provided me with a much needed ‘new battle to fight’ - something that occupied my energies so completely that I had neither opportunity nor inclination to dwell upon the past. The disappointments of the previous year appeared insignificant, even ridiculous, compared with what we were facing now. And so overcoming the disease also came to represent a symbolic victory of sorts…as S rightly remarked, this was the year I found myself.
2007 was certainly the year of celebration. I was so exhausted with the stress – both physical and mental – of the previous year that I just wanted to go out and celebrate life. I had never come this close to mortality – and while it made me not afraid to die, it also made me happy to be alive. So we did numerous places in and around Bangalore and of course – Kanha, London, Normandy, Belgium, Amsterdam, Thailand & Singapore. Most certainly the year of travel.
Which brings me to 2008. A tough cookie, this one – for I still can’t figure out what 2008 was about. Singapore, Costa Rica, Coorg, Tranquebar & Shekhawati notwithstanding, this certainly wasn’t the year of travel - I’m extremely disappointed at not having traveled to a new country this year, the first time this has happened in six years! No life changing love, and so no losing of faith; no insurmountable obstacles, and so no major triumphs to be proud of. Yes, there were some challenges on the home front, but I guess I’m getting used to them now. I hate to admit it, but it was a year that was possibly more interesting on the professional front than on the personal one. It was a year of driftwood…a very ordinary year.
Hasta la vista, baby!
One of the craziest weekends I’ve had in a while – here’s remembering a wonderful November weekend!
Friday evening : Rock Nights at Opus, did the place groove !!! I was completely bowled over by the guy who rendered ‘What’s Going On’ and the lovely guitar riffs by the Kunal Kapoor lookalike. Had a fantastic, rocking time after ages !!!
Friday Midnight – Saturday Night : Driving, Driving, Driving !!! A few watered-down drinks ( I had a Caipirinha-cousin and two Margarita’s, D some beer and gin/vodka tonic) + totally groovy rock music + another weekend stretching ahead + two nutty people who love driving = INSANITY. On an impulse, close to midnight on Friday, we decided to drive 400 km to Jog Falls. Why Jog Falls? I have no clue – but I do know I would have agreed to drive to Kandahar if you had asked me!
800 kilometres of driving across twenty hours, endless cups of sweet coffee, the hunt for clean loo’s, idli-vada for breakfast, dhaaba made dal-roti-egg bhurji (my favorite road meal!), Kurkere, Bingo, the same tape playing repeatedly for hours, random conversations (how else would you describe talk about cuff-links!), the stupendous stretch between Sagar & Shimoga, the non-existent roads in many stretches (will the Karnataka government pleeeease wake up – I don’t mind paying more than 23 rupees for real roads!). A looong drive, that too unplanned, with someone with whom there is no memory of the past and no possibility of a future – this was just what I needed to beat the blues !
Sunday – Surprisingly, I am up at 9 despite not having slept the night before! Rush to Giri’s house warming ceremony – the drive to Bannerghetta National Park (well, almost) should only be undertaken on a Sunday morning! Rush back to Chinnaswamy for the India-England ODI. We lead the series 3-0, so I am secretly hoping for an English win to keep the series alive.
We reach the stadium around noon. Get our faces painted, buy the tiranga jhanda and troop along to our stand, FURIOUS to discover that the one-hour queuing up and the considerable ticket price has got us a seat behind the camera crew, cutting off the view of the pitch completely ! Luckily, this is Bangalore, the organizers are helpful and we are two abla naari’s – so there is some adjust maadi and we get some vintage seats at the corner of the stands.
Chinnaswamy is a wonderful stadium to watch a cricket match in. The grass is a freshly painted green, and since the grounds are not very large, you get a fantastic view of all the action. Of course, the buzz at a cricket match in the subcontinent is a must-have experience – even Ravi Shastri draws big applause (certainly much more than his ignominious World Cup days!)
The weather looks dubious – there are a few raindrops occasionally, followed by a hint of sunlight playing peek-a-boo with the clouds. Fingers crossed.
We are delighted when KP puts India in to bat, and Sehwag sets the pace with a cracking boundary on the first ball! He has to be seen to be believed – standing nonchalantly with his bat slung over his shoulder (almost like he is at a dhobi-ghaat) and then plundering the ball in all directions. Annihilation at its finest. Sachin joins in the fun at the expense of Broad, but looks tentative thereafter.
The first showers arrive unexpectedly, but in full force. I don’t mind it too much – after all, this is part of the fun! We take cover in the hall behind the stand (I’m sure the coffee man is sick of me by now – if the organizers discontinue with the practice of free ‘High Tea’, I am partly to blame). The downpour gets heavier, and we are suddenly faced with the depressing prospect that there may not be any further play!
Luckily, the Bangalore showers are true to form, and depart as unexpectedly as they made their first appearance. We rush back to our seats to catch 30 minutes of the supersoakers in action – I must say I am mighty impressed with their performance in soaking up the water! Broad runs in to resume the proceedings, and there is a stunned silence when Sachin is dismissed in the fourth ball of the over. However, Gambhir continues the party by flicking the first ball he faces for a four.
The run making feast continues, much to our delight, but the clouds want to join in the fun. A light drizzle soon turns into a torrent. It appears highly unlikely that the match will resume. Just 11 goddamn overs – this is worse than a T20! We decide to drown our sorrows by indulging in a sumptuous dinner at the Only Place. Our painted faces attract the attention of the oh-so-good looking owner – there is some compensation for having missed the cricketing fireworks after all! Hot soup, some delicious fish and lots of creamy pasta – with deep sighs for you-know-who - do their bit to revive our spirits. As we get into the car, D sms-es saying match is likely to resume. We decide to ‘chake a tance’ and head to Barista to kill some time – we’ve just ordered when D calls to say match will resume in 10 mins – hurray! Coffee in hands, we rush back to Chinnaswamy – complimenting ourselves on our brilliant foresight of dining close by : -) Our seats have been occupied by the stadium guards and there are more officials than spectators in the stands, but who cares! The English batsmen do not disappoint – they display admirable efficiency and commitment in making a complete hash of a simple job. When KP walks in, P & I just can’t resist cheering for him – what a hunk of a man! Both of us are secretly hoping for a long innings from him – but our man disappoints and is out before we can say hello. Bluhdy. The old saga continues, England continues to lose wickets regularly and do a great job of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. It is midnight, I wave goodbye to the camera crew. My fantastic weekend has come to an end - look forward to many more!
Friday evening : Rock Nights at Opus, did the place groove !!! I was completely bowled over by the guy who rendered ‘What’s Going On’ and the lovely guitar riffs by the Kunal Kapoor lookalike. Had a fantastic, rocking time after ages !!!
Friday Midnight – Saturday Night : Driving, Driving, Driving !!! A few watered-down drinks ( I had a Caipirinha-cousin and two Margarita’s, D some beer and gin/vodka tonic) + totally groovy rock music + another weekend stretching ahead + two nutty people who love driving = INSANITY. On an impulse, close to midnight on Friday, we decided to drive 400 km to Jog Falls. Why Jog Falls? I have no clue – but I do know I would have agreed to drive to Kandahar if you had asked me!
800 kilometres of driving across twenty hours, endless cups of sweet coffee, the hunt for clean loo’s, idli-vada for breakfast, dhaaba made dal-roti-egg bhurji (my favorite road meal!), Kurkere, Bingo, the same tape playing repeatedly for hours, random conversations (how else would you describe talk about cuff-links!), the stupendous stretch between Sagar & Shimoga, the non-existent roads in many stretches (will the Karnataka government pleeeease wake up – I don’t mind paying more than 23 rupees for real roads!). A looong drive, that too unplanned, with someone with whom there is no memory of the past and no possibility of a future – this was just what I needed to beat the blues !
Sunday – Surprisingly, I am up at 9 despite not having slept the night before! Rush to Giri’s house warming ceremony – the drive to Bannerghetta National Park (well, almost) should only be undertaken on a Sunday morning! Rush back to Chinnaswamy for the India-England ODI. We lead the series 3-0, so I am secretly hoping for an English win to keep the series alive.
We reach the stadium around noon. Get our faces painted, buy the tiranga jhanda and troop along to our stand, FURIOUS to discover that the one-hour queuing up and the considerable ticket price has got us a seat behind the camera crew, cutting off the view of the pitch completely ! Luckily, this is Bangalore, the organizers are helpful and we are two abla naari’s – so there is some adjust maadi and we get some vintage seats at the corner of the stands.
Chinnaswamy is a wonderful stadium to watch a cricket match in. The grass is a freshly painted green, and since the grounds are not very large, you get a fantastic view of all the action. Of course, the buzz at a cricket match in the subcontinent is a must-have experience – even Ravi Shastri draws big applause (certainly much more than his ignominious World Cup days!)
The weather looks dubious – there are a few raindrops occasionally, followed by a hint of sunlight playing peek-a-boo with the clouds. Fingers crossed.
We are delighted when KP puts India in to bat, and Sehwag sets the pace with a cracking boundary on the first ball! He has to be seen to be believed – standing nonchalantly with his bat slung over his shoulder (almost like he is at a dhobi-ghaat) and then plundering the ball in all directions. Annihilation at its finest. Sachin joins in the fun at the expense of Broad, but looks tentative thereafter.
The first showers arrive unexpectedly, but in full force. I don’t mind it too much – after all, this is part of the fun! We take cover in the hall behind the stand (I’m sure the coffee man is sick of me by now – if the organizers discontinue with the practice of free ‘High Tea’, I am partly to blame). The downpour gets heavier, and we are suddenly faced with the depressing prospect that there may not be any further play!
Luckily, the Bangalore showers are true to form, and depart as unexpectedly as they made their first appearance. We rush back to our seats to catch 30 minutes of the supersoakers in action – I must say I am mighty impressed with their performance in soaking up the water! Broad runs in to resume the proceedings, and there is a stunned silence when Sachin is dismissed in the fourth ball of the over. However, Gambhir continues the party by flicking the first ball he faces for a four.
The run making feast continues, much to our delight, but the clouds want to join in the fun. A light drizzle soon turns into a torrent. It appears highly unlikely that the match will resume. Just 11 goddamn overs – this is worse than a T20! We decide to drown our sorrows by indulging in a sumptuous dinner at the Only Place. Our painted faces attract the attention of the oh-so-good looking owner – there is some compensation for having missed the cricketing fireworks after all! Hot soup, some delicious fish and lots of creamy pasta – with deep sighs for you-know-who - do their bit to revive our spirits. As we get into the car, D sms-es saying match is likely to resume. We decide to ‘chake a tance’ and head to Barista to kill some time – we’ve just ordered when D calls to say match will resume in 10 mins – hurray! Coffee in hands, we rush back to Chinnaswamy – complimenting ourselves on our brilliant foresight of dining close by : -) Our seats have been occupied by the stadium guards and there are more officials than spectators in the stands, but who cares! The English batsmen do not disappoint – they display admirable efficiency and commitment in making a complete hash of a simple job. When KP walks in, P & I just can’t resist cheering for him – what a hunk of a man! Both of us are secretly hoping for a long innings from him – but our man disappoints and is out before we can say hello. Bluhdy. The old saga continues, England continues to lose wickets regularly and do a great job of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. It is midnight, I wave goodbye to the camera crew. My fantastic weekend has come to an end - look forward to many more!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)