Yuletide joy

The sun shone in the mellow way that it sometimes does. It was a cold morning and a little boy was excited. For this was the day Santa brought gifts! He had carefully hung out socks and an old muffler. They did not possess stockings and mittens, in fact,he actually had no idea what a mitten was. Since he was only eight, we excuse him for thinking it was some kind of a kitten. He just hoped that Santa would accept a sock and a muffler as a suitable receptacle for placing goodies.

Vimalambal woke early. It was margazhi, the holy month and it was said that getting up early would ensure a spot in Vaikuntha. She was getting old and did not want to take any chances. Savitri, her arch rival had most conveniently expired on a holy day and if savitri was in heaven, then by hell (pun unintended) she was going there too.Plus It was Vaikuntha Ekadasi. After her bath, she mumbled prayers and fiddled for the light switch in the hall and her hand hit something.

"Aiyyo" . Her screams woke the entire household. Appa thought she had fallen and broken her hip. Amma chastised appa for thinking that way and guessed (rightly) that some blasphemy had occurred. "I have touched socks..Which fool has placed them here? Chah..im all impure now! fie fie*"

A few strong cups of coffee later the mystery was cleared. I was reading to many Enid Blyton's and in all my naivete had believed Santa mama to come bearing gifts. Also I have never seen my parents laugh so hard. Ever. The events also sparked off a series of cheap jokes on me and socks. To this day it rankles. Most children rejoice at the thought of Christmas. I cower in fear of lame jokes and people dangling socks under my nose (smelly ones at that).

To be fair to Vimalambal (name changed to protect identity) and the others, I shall narrate this too. Later in the day she called her grandson and gave him a 100 rupee note. for Christmas, from Santa mama. His parents also got him gifts. Awww..happy family moment. His parents also later discreetly cautioned him against getting such ideas during Easter. He was expressly forbidden to get eggs of any sort, lest Viamlambal throw a royal, purple fit.

*replaced. This is a family-friendly place. And words uttered by old ladies sometimes put the most reprobate to shame, notwithstanding holy months or days.

I Need To Know!!

A person without thoughts is not a possibility. The thoughts may be redundant, silly, stimulating, destructive..anything but, thoughts they are! We think about multifarious things in a day. Thoughts triggered by different events, with a varied essence and of varying magnitudes.
According to me Maslow's Pyramid of needs helps in answering a lot of questions which are physiological and psychological in nature. It can help each of us identify the pattern of our thoughts.

Maslow's hierarchy of needs consists of five levels: the four lower levels are grouped together as being associated with Physiological needs, while the top level is termed growth needs associated with psychological needs. Deficiency needs must be met first. Once these are met, seeking to satisfy growth needs drives personal growth. The higher needs in this hierarchy only come into focus when the lower needs in the pyramid are satisfied. If a lower set of needs is no longer being met, the individual will temporarily re-prioritize those needs by focusing attention on the unfulfilled needs, but will not permanently regress to the lower level.

So when we actually reach the stage of self-actualization we are apparently materially and emotionally satisfied individuals.

Of the last few months I can visualize myself as an animated stick figure trekking up the learning curve of my organization, Maslow's hierarchy and life on the whole. After a lot of analysis I figured I think I'm in the "Need to Know and Understand" segment.

So where do you think you figure in the hierarchy of needs??

P.S: Cross posted from my other blog, Life is above it all.

Sheer brilliance

We have been tagged. By a veteran blogger, close friend and a humourous-psychotic-cranberry eating-song sending maniac. So we have no choice but to accept it. After all in the scheme of things that is the blogosphere we are but an insignificant blimp (as opposed to him, a minor celebrity). So we accept graciously.

But whats more pleasing than something to blog about is the reception of an award. Its not everyday that one gets to boast about being called most brilliant.

We is happy :) :D and slightly delusional.

The rules of the tag are: Post 5 links to 5 of your previously written posts. The posts have to relate to the 5 key words given (family, friend, yourself, your love, anything you like). Tag 5 other friends to do this meme. Try to tag at least 2 new acquaintances (if not, your current blog buddies will do) so that you get to know them each a little bit better.

Family: They're crazy. They're a hoot and are mostly inadvertently so.I really haven't even begun to write about all the stuff that goes on, but all of them make for posts tagged as humour, satire, and such many varying platitudes. This is an example of things they usually do. This, however was written after much anguish. A rare time no family should have to go through.

Friend: A category that's suddenly expanded to include lot more people. More craziness. Most of my blogroll.The beginning of it all. A rare breed of inspiring friends here.

Yourself: Not much here. Or then, my entire blog. My posts are a very good indicator of what I'm feeling currently and whats eating my mind most. So there.

Your love: No talking here. Simply
one
two
three

Anything you like: I suspect this category has been included for the express purpose of shameless self publicity. But then that's what the whole tag manages to do. Oh well. Here go. What I call parent-friendly swearing. And one of my personal favourates.

We are also supposed to tag few more. Basically make them link around their blog (yawn!). We are also giving out to the award to the same people (so that we dont have to choose and be accused of favouratism later). I call brilliant swatimala, elusive, liberal and chocoliciousgal. Newcomer fat-gujju can just do the tag and feel happy.

PS: I am most peeved. humourous and favourates are underlined in red by blogger.

Time

The earphones fit perfectly for a change, snugly, warm and comforting in my ears.

I reached into my pocket and turned up the volume of my iPod. Dido began to sing a little louder than one second ago.

'no white flag, above my door'
oh no baby, I thought, no white flag.

'...go down with the ship...'
indeed you will, and so will I.

Walking through the aisle, I looked at the passengers on both sides. They stared back mat me scared, faces pale and it struck me a little funny. I positioned myself and began my performance, I'd rehearsed my lines well and knew I would kill it. I realised though, that I was talking a bit too loudly, like headphon'ed' people normally do.

Same can be said true for people with 2 Kg RDX trapped on their bodies. One of my two brothers was done with the praying and he tapped me on the shoulder saying that it was my turn.

I walked into the pilot's cabin and sat in the co-pilot's chair. I smiled at the pilot's blood streaked face which radiated hate at me like a brilliant heater, the kinds we could ony dream of back home on cold winter nights. I sat there looking at the clouds, Strato Cumuls the passanger next to me had called them and the cities standing tall and far far away.

Not for long though.

I did not pray, just skipped to my next favorite song. The clock at my belt slowly ticked to blasting point.

Just enough time to squeeze in Floyd.....'Time'.

Concealer

She sat in front of the dressing table and unscrewed the concealer, the same brand that she had been using for the last 5 years.She poured out the the ususal copious amounts of concealer and began to carefully apply the liquid on her face.

Remembering back to the day of her wedding when she, who had always been envied for her beauty and her flawless complexion, didn't require any of this unsavoury stuff. She now sat with intense concentration to hide that very skin behind a clayey concealer. She remembered her wedding day nearly 5 years back - the beautician was amazed to see a bride so beautiful without the bridal paraphanelia.It was her face that had captured the attention and consequently the heart of her future husband.

This beauty which she was once so proud of was today the bane of her life. The challenge to hide her pain and still measure up to the standards of the world had become a matter of routine for her.Touching up the makeup she realized this careful regimen for her had now become a sad necessity.

Just as she finished and turned, the pallu of her sari caught on the bottle and it crashed to the ground. She saw the mess caused by the gooey liquid which was for her; not a whim, but a necessity. Suddenly she found herself crying, the broken pieces of glass reflecting her state of mind and something in her snapped and she thought, "Till when will I paint away the streaks of pain??"

She walked into the bathroom and washed away all her makeup to expose her peaches and cream marred by black and purple bruises. Purposefully, she picked up her handbag and strode out of her home into the world without her concealer!

This was the first step in the fight to get her life back!

Brilliant Tutorials

Professor R.V. Rangachary Vedanthakrishnan: “Is a gun madi*?”

Kameshwari Devi Suryanarayanan: “Nope, it isn’t”

“It is…stupid Kamu, your elder sister Abithakujalambal went to IIT Mumbai (Indian Institute of Terrorism), your elder brother Venkatasubbu is an ISO 9001 certified terrorist and you…such a waste!”

Kamu looks decidedly embarrassed and slightly peeved. The professor softens; after all she is his favourate student.

“Listen now, since it is madi you have to wash it, bullets et al before you take it up. And needless to say, you must be bathed”

“Now tell me how to throw a genade?”

Kami rattles off stuff she has learnt by-heart, staying up all night long.

“No no no…You will touch the gun with your left hand? Aiyyo! Right hand ma, left is impure…have I taught you nothing?”

“And no biting the grenade off, its yechal** (abacharam! These kids were getting too influenced by western media now-a-days). You must take the pin off with the middle finger and thumb of your right hand, circle the grenade round your head thrice and then throw it”

“What about clothing? No Versace, Gucci and Prada. Wear stuff that’s soaking wet, untouched by anyone. Get it class?”

"Guys..remember Panchapakesa Iyer..brilliant student, IIT topper the idiot was foolish enough to let his gun get stuck in his poonal; tch tch..."

Professor R.V. Rangachary Vedanthakrishnan shuddered as he remembered that ghastly moment.

"Always be careful. Constant vigilance"

“And bonus points if you get any one on the abishtu list***. Poitu vaango kozhandel”

*madi: An eccentric South Indian concept, requiring the person in question to wear wet clothes, touch only similar wet (pure) things and generally be a public nuisance.

**yechal: jhootha, hindi. Something that has had saliva on it.

***abishtu list: An array of names, populated as far back as 2008. Boasts prominent personalities who played a vital role in the rape of Mumbai (caste, age, sex, nationality no bar).

PS:

If you want to take offence, feel free to do so. I find no other way to react. For now.