Well, it was not "Vinnaithaandi Varuvaaya" that inspired me to visit "God's own country". The real reason was that, after being in the US for a couple of years and watching fellow native friends visiting different parts of the country for vacation , it struck me that having grown up in a beautiful country like India, I had literally pretty much never stepped out of the borders of Tamil Nadu. And that's only because of the cultural reasons when you either travelled to your grandparents' or cousin's home for the holidays (but I don't regret that, since those were one of the most enjoyable times of my life).
And so, I decided to start to explore India better, and the first place we chose to visit was Kerala. We travelled to Allepey by car. Our driver was the most knowledgeable person when it came to driving (Or so he thought because he never listened to us asking him to drive slower). We reached the city late at night, stayed at an inn and the next morning, drove to the back-waters where our REAL journey was to begin. As a kid, I dreamt about living on a house-boat, and lo, how many beautiful house-boats I saw! We rented a house-boat and then took a tour of it. The exterior had a lot of bamboo work on it which added to its beauty. The HOUSE had an open drawing room with a coffee-table and television, a bedroom with a nice window looking out to the backwaters with an attached bathroom, a wash area, and a kitchen. And we had two people travelling with us who were going to cook for us!
The boat started to move and as we travelled along, the beauty of Allepey with its backwaters and the majestic tall coconut trees was breath-taking! I couldn't decide if I wanted to catch the beautiful sight on camera or with my naked eye! Ashvath enjoyed what he was best at doing-sitting at the edge of the house-boat(it was safe with small walls) and playing with the water. We crossed the back-waters and then merged into what seemed like a large lake. We seemed to keep enjoying the scenery, and it was a couple of hours, before we stopped at the shore and saw a line of shops which seemed to sell all kinds of sea-food. My husband being a sea-food lover, selected the shrimp/fish that he liked the best , and the two people who were helping us, started to cook the dishes for us. Also, they were already cooking some yummy vegetarian dishes too. After they had done cooking, the boat was tied to a nice shady place, and we sat around at the coffee-table, and all the scrumptious dishes were brought to us, including but not limited to rice, shrimp, fried fish, sambar, rasam, beans, cabbage and papad. Began the feast , also simultaneously enjoying the scenic view with the boat dancing gently in the waters.
After we emptied the plates, we resumed our journey, and I retired to the bedroom to enjoy a small nap before I joined my husband and son again. We then slowly got back to the backwaters of Kumarakom where our boat finally stopped and our boat journey ended.
We then went to stay at this resort at Kumarakom. From our check-in point, we were taken by a small boat to this resort as the resort was mostly surrounded by water. Need I say what it looked like? Indeed the view was amazing, that it almost felt tranquilent. The building with its rooms was built in an L-shape looking out to the large lake, and the land in the front was structured like a park, with green lawns, haddocks, a swimming pool in the centre, and a small shelter meant to be a restaurant. Most of our day was spent in the lawn area, lying in the haddock and viewing the sea, taking a small walk. We had dinner in that out-door restaurant. We retired to bed that night, and the next morning, we left the place.
I was sad that we had to return, but also happy that I got to enjoy this visual treat of Allepey and Kumarakom!
I hope India is explored better by its natives. Not only would we get to know the beauty that the country has to offer, but it will be a great token to help improve tourism and hence the overall economy.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Friday, August 14, 2009
Dreamz Unlimited
I've always wanted to write a book..
I don't know when exactly the budding desire started to develop within me,
but the saddest part is that it still remains a desire and nothing fruitful has flown down from my thoughts to paper
There is a problem here..just a small one though..
What shall i write about?
Should i write a murder mystery like the ones by Christie, the queen of crimes? My detective would be a Portuguese called Shercule Hoirot and would have a square-shaped head very unlike Poirot's classic egg-shaped one.
What about a fast paced thriller on the likes of Sidney Sheldon? Something about how a woman rises from poverty to being the President of a powerful country? Would it make a racy thriller? Who knows, it might be made into a hollywood movie too..
No, let me try my hands on Romance, the favourite subject of any woman. A moving romantic tale that would even surpass the beautiful love story of Ayn Rand's "We the Living". Who can ever forget the unrequited and passionate love of Kira for Leo?
Come on, now..the latest hottie is Dan Brown. His meticulous research work on da Vinci and the Vatican was the secret of his success. Maybe I should choose a similar subject to work upon too. Would Van Gogh make an interesting topic? What about Michael Angelo?
As these crazy thoughts run through my head, I receive a sudden spark of enlightenment.
I realize that I could never become a writer (a good one at that) if I only wanted to imitate the works of great authors. In fact, that would be plagiarism if I was ethical enough to consider it.
All the above mentioned authors were deemed great not because of the way that words formed from their thoughts but because those thoughts occurred to them in the first place.
I also console myself that this is probably a commonplace problem of any amateur writer. And if i tried hard, my creativity would take over and my pen would start flowing.
I wait patiently for the day to happen
I've always wanted to write a book..
There's just this small problem..
What shall i write about?
I don't know when exactly the budding desire started to develop within me,
but the saddest part is that it still remains a desire and nothing fruitful has flown down from my thoughts to paper
There is a problem here..just a small one though..
What shall i write about?
Should i write a murder mystery like the ones by Christie, the queen of crimes? My detective would be a Portuguese called Shercule Hoirot and would have a square-shaped head very unlike Poirot's classic egg-shaped one.
What about a fast paced thriller on the likes of Sidney Sheldon? Something about how a woman rises from poverty to being the President of a powerful country? Would it make a racy thriller? Who knows, it might be made into a hollywood movie too..
No, let me try my hands on Romance, the favourite subject of any woman. A moving romantic tale that would even surpass the beautiful love story of Ayn Rand's "We the Living". Who can ever forget the unrequited and passionate love of Kira for Leo?
Come on, now..the latest hottie is Dan Brown. His meticulous research work on da Vinci and the Vatican was the secret of his success. Maybe I should choose a similar subject to work upon too. Would Van Gogh make an interesting topic? What about Michael Angelo?
As these crazy thoughts run through my head, I receive a sudden spark of enlightenment.
I realize that I could never become a writer (a good one at that) if I only wanted to imitate the works of great authors. In fact, that would be plagiarism if I was ethical enough to consider it.
All the above mentioned authors were deemed great not because of the way that words formed from their thoughts but because those thoughts occurred to them in the first place.
I also console myself that this is probably a commonplace problem of any amateur writer. And if i tried hard, my creativity would take over and my pen would start flowing.
I wait patiently for the day to happen
I've always wanted to write a book..
There's just this small problem..
What shall i write about?
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Happy Dayz
When I turn to look back at my life, I'm amazed at the panoramic view that it's got to offer, the ups and downs, the twists and turns more thrilling than a novel of the same genre. Amongst all, what appears to me to be the days I cherish the most were my days at school, those childhood days.
As a child, I was always my parents' little princess, and I very well remember the few minutes before I would rush off to school every morning. My mother would be hurriedly feeding me breakfast, my father simultaneously helping me with my shoes, and me,in the midst of all the chaos,would be seriously engrossed in a text-book, without a care in the world. I remember this scene vividly like it happened not so long ago.
School was fun with a capital F. The most interesting period was inevitably the lunch-break(hee,hee). Juicy conversation would flow amongst a gang of five or six of us, and it always took the bell to remind us that in the midst of all this, lunch was mostly forgotten. We would gulp big mouthfuls to quickly complete it, but not too soon to escape the teacher who would enter the class and stare at us sternly. On top of this, the entire class would be giggling at us. We would red-facedly rush off to our seats, but were too thick-skinned not to mind repeating the same events the next day, and every other day to come.
We also did'nt mind some harmless teasing on teachers. There was one teacher who used the phrase "for example" very frequently. For example, if one had to say, "King Ashoka was a ruler of the Kalinga dynasty", she would say, "King ashoka,for example, was a ruler,for example,of the Kalinga dynasty". At a time when it was boring to listen to her lecture, we decided to count the number of times she used the phrase "for example". But we soon realized that it was a herculean task as it crossed fifty times in just five minutes. Hence, the idea was sadly given up.
There was this other teacher who had the stange habit of ending every sentence with the word "the". For example, if she had to ask "what are you doing?", she would instead ask,"what are you doing the?". At an age when the nuances of diplomacy were not understood, it was decided that one of us would ask her why she had this habit. Like oliver twist, it fell to me. I stood up proudly and daringly asked her, "Ma'm, why do you use the word 'the' at the end of every sentence?", but i can't detail here the chiding that followed and the advice that was given on good behaviour and discipline.
But, on a serious note, I simply loved my teachers who brought history alive, made mathematics fun and helped us conquer the english and tamil languages. This blog article is in fact an ode to my beloved teachers who not only instilled in me the quest for knowledge, but also moulded my personality and have made me into the person I am today. Kudos to Mrs.Mildred John, Sr.Annette, Ms.Sreeja, Mrs.Leela, Mrs.Padma ,Mrs.Jeeva, Ms.Padmini and others - I don't know if I will be able to meet them in person again (Mrs.Mildred John is no more with us in the physical sense), but these are the people who will always hold a special place in my heart, for eternity.
Those care-free, worry-free days at school were, without a doubt, in my life, the most happy days!!
As a child, I was always my parents' little princess, and I very well remember the few minutes before I would rush off to school every morning. My mother would be hurriedly feeding me breakfast, my father simultaneously helping me with my shoes, and me,in the midst of all the chaos,would be seriously engrossed in a text-book, without a care in the world. I remember this scene vividly like it happened not so long ago.
School was fun with a capital F. The most interesting period was inevitably the lunch-break(hee,hee). Juicy conversation would flow amongst a gang of five or six of us, and it always took the bell to remind us that in the midst of all this, lunch was mostly forgotten. We would gulp big mouthfuls to quickly complete it, but not too soon to escape the teacher who would enter the class and stare at us sternly. On top of this, the entire class would be giggling at us. We would red-facedly rush off to our seats, but were too thick-skinned not to mind repeating the same events the next day, and every other day to come.
We also did'nt mind some harmless teasing on teachers. There was one teacher who used the phrase "for example" very frequently. For example, if one had to say, "King Ashoka was a ruler of the Kalinga dynasty", she would say, "King ashoka,for example, was a ruler,for example,of the Kalinga dynasty". At a time when it was boring to listen to her lecture, we decided to count the number of times she used the phrase "for example". But we soon realized that it was a herculean task as it crossed fifty times in just five minutes. Hence, the idea was sadly given up.
There was this other teacher who had the stange habit of ending every sentence with the word "the". For example, if she had to ask "what are you doing?", she would instead ask,"what are you doing the?". At an age when the nuances of diplomacy were not understood, it was decided that one of us would ask her why she had this habit. Like oliver twist, it fell to me. I stood up proudly and daringly asked her, "Ma'm, why do you use the word 'the' at the end of every sentence?", but i can't detail here the chiding that followed and the advice that was given on good behaviour and discipline.
But, on a serious note, I simply loved my teachers who brought history alive, made mathematics fun and helped us conquer the english and tamil languages. This blog article is in fact an ode to my beloved teachers who not only instilled in me the quest for knowledge, but also moulded my personality and have made me into the person I am today. Kudos to Mrs.Mildred John, Sr.Annette, Ms.Sreeja, Mrs.Leela, Mrs.Padma ,Mrs.Jeeva, Ms.Padmini and others - I don't know if I will be able to meet them in person again (Mrs.Mildred John is no more with us in the physical sense), but these are the people who will always hold a special place in my heart, for eternity.
Those care-free, worry-free days at school were, without a doubt, in my life, the most happy days!!
Thursday, December 18, 2008
i(my) Phone
When I received an iPhone as a birthday gift a few months ago, my joy knew no bounds. It became my favourite plaything for the next few days. But as with the shockingly predictable feature that's characteristic of any mobile phone user, I soon grew bored with my new toy. Yet, I thought I should list down the pros and cons of this gadget that initially inspired me loads.
THE TURN-ONS: (Later, I will tell you why I'm using this description for a phone)
1. The easy-to-use touch screen
2. I can access you tube,my e-mails and other favourite sites in a jiffy
3. It's got an amazing application store with hitherto unknown features(well,at least to me) like Urban spoon (where you shake your phone and it randomly selects a nearby restaurant for you to dine), mini piano, Shazam(the phone identifies music you hear on TV) & Hangman(a word game), to name a few from an ocean of applications.
4. I get to play sudoku without frantically searching for fresh newspapers all the time
5. the voice recorder provides excellent audibility
THE TURN-OFFS:
1. The phone is bulky
2. The appearance is nothing much to write about, and I have admired the sleeker nokia models a lot more
3. The pictures taken from the camera have poor clarity and resolution
4. There is no video recorder
Now, coming to why I used the terms turn-ons and turn-offs. That's because I always think that a mobile phone is like a woman(Or a man too, considering myself a feminist), something , that after a few months, you get bored with and invariably want to change. Now,that reminds me , "CHANGE" has become my latest favourite word, considering my latest fascination for this guy, Obama. I'm not an expert on his administrative policies, but the man undenyingly has loads of charisma and magnetism that is sure to bring him laurels in the future.
I'm always good at deviating from the main topic. But as I said, I'm bored with my phone and my eyes have already started roving to some of the funkier models that I see at the stores.
Now, I heard the latest blackberry storm is good. What say you?
THE TURN-ONS: (Later, I will tell you why I'm using this description for a phone)
1. The easy-to-use touch screen
2. I can access you tube,my e-mails and other favourite sites in a jiffy
3. It's got an amazing application store with hitherto unknown features(well,at least to me) like Urban spoon (where you shake your phone and it randomly selects a nearby restaurant for you to dine), mini piano, Shazam(the phone identifies music you hear on TV) & Hangman(a word game), to name a few from an ocean of applications.
4. I get to play sudoku without frantically searching for fresh newspapers all the time
5. the voice recorder provides excellent audibility
THE TURN-OFFS:
1. The phone is bulky
2. The appearance is nothing much to write about, and I have admired the sleeker nokia models a lot more
3. The pictures taken from the camera have poor clarity and resolution
4. There is no video recorder
Now, coming to why I used the terms turn-ons and turn-offs. That's because I always think that a mobile phone is like a woman(Or a man too, considering myself a feminist), something , that after a few months, you get bored with and invariably want to change. Now,that reminds me , "CHANGE" has become my latest favourite word, considering my latest fascination for this guy, Obama. I'm not an expert on his administrative policies, but the man undenyingly has loads of charisma and magnetism that is sure to bring him laurels in the future.
I'm always good at deviating from the main topic. But as I said, I'm bored with my phone and my eyes have already started roving to some of the funkier models that I see at the stores.
Now, I heard the latest blackberry storm is good. What say you?
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Crossroads
I was admitted into the hospital for a few hours for some reason and it not being one of my best days, I just planned to spend it quietly in my cubicle. But I quickly learnt that it was not to be like that. My nurse barged in, vibrant and exuding positive energy. "Hi honey, I'm Sandra. How are you this morning? Shall i order some breakfast for you?" . Though she appeared middle aged, with her heavy framed glasses, braces and constant smile, I couldn't help being reminded of "Ugly Betty". I said stiffly "No thanks"(In other words, I meant "Please don't disturb me. I'm fine. And please don't honey me.) She seemed impervious to my attitude as she left saying "Call me if you need anything honey".
I thanked God and closed my eyes to go to blissful slumber. But it wasn't much time before she came back and enquired if everything was fine. I cursed the day being sometime in the thanksgiving weekend as the hospital looked almost uninhabited and I was one of the only two patients she had that day.I tried best to close the conversation only to lose poorly to someone who was impossible to quieten down. So I finally conceded that I would give in to her chatter but I would only be a passive listener. She enquired about the Mumbai terror attacks and this time, there was nothing that could stop me from detailing the events happening there.The conversation soon moved on to other topics without me being much aware of it. I don't know the exact moment when reluctance gave way to eagerness, but soon, I found myself discussing medicine, nursing, shopping , family and children with her. When she was called to attend the other patient for a short time, this time, to my surprise, I was reluctant to let her go. Our conversation still continued and when she commented, "You are a quiet young lady, aren't you?", I couldn't help telling her that I had talked a lot more that day than I usually do, to which she laughed mirthfully. Soon, it was time for me to check out and it was incredible to see how quickly the time had passed. It struck me that Sandra had not only succeeded to converse comfortably with me, but probably unknowingly even to her, she had erased the hostility and irritation that was present with me earlier that day.I realized that I had made a good friend in Sandra.
When it was time for me to leave, the introvert in me stood standing not knowing what to do, when Sandra took over and did the thing i too wanted to but could not bring myself to do it. She simply hugged me . I knew that for both of us, it had proved to be something more than the ordinary day.
I then turned around and walked without looking back , at the same time realizing that my heart was doing a little squeeze as I did so.
In the journey of life, sometimes, someone walks into our lives from nowhere, creates a special bond with us, but may have to leave soon to continue his or her own journey, just like two intersecting roads that have to invariably diverge after a course of time. In that case, instead of repenting their loss, it is best to thank God not only for creating such beautiful moments in our lives but also because he has created many synapses in our brain, called memories, so that we can preserve, recollect and cherish those special moments for eternity.(well, at least until one gets afflicted with Alzheimer's disease).
Yes, I knew I would miss Sandra but I was also happy that I had met her for she had definitely made a difference to my life. I know I will always cherish our bond of friendship. As I said, memories are enough.
I thanked God and closed my eyes to go to blissful slumber. But it wasn't much time before she came back and enquired if everything was fine. I cursed the day being sometime in the thanksgiving weekend as the hospital looked almost uninhabited and I was one of the only two patients she had that day.I tried best to close the conversation only to lose poorly to someone who was impossible to quieten down. So I finally conceded that I would give in to her chatter but I would only be a passive listener. She enquired about the Mumbai terror attacks and this time, there was nothing that could stop me from detailing the events happening there.The conversation soon moved on to other topics without me being much aware of it. I don't know the exact moment when reluctance gave way to eagerness, but soon, I found myself discussing medicine, nursing, shopping , family and children with her. When she was called to attend the other patient for a short time, this time, to my surprise, I was reluctant to let her go. Our conversation still continued and when she commented, "You are a quiet young lady, aren't you?", I couldn't help telling her that I had talked a lot more that day than I usually do, to which she laughed mirthfully. Soon, it was time for me to check out and it was incredible to see how quickly the time had passed. It struck me that Sandra had not only succeeded to converse comfortably with me, but probably unknowingly even to her, she had erased the hostility and irritation that was present with me earlier that day.I realized that I had made a good friend in Sandra.
When it was time for me to leave, the introvert in me stood standing not knowing what to do, when Sandra took over and did the thing i too wanted to but could not bring myself to do it. She simply hugged me . I knew that for both of us, it had proved to be something more than the ordinary day.
I then turned around and walked without looking back , at the same time realizing that my heart was doing a little squeeze as I did so.
In the journey of life, sometimes, someone walks into our lives from nowhere, creates a special bond with us, but may have to leave soon to continue his or her own journey, just like two intersecting roads that have to invariably diverge after a course of time. In that case, instead of repenting their loss, it is best to thank God not only for creating such beautiful moments in our lives but also because he has created many synapses in our brain, called memories, so that we can preserve, recollect and cherish those special moments for eternity.(well, at least until one gets afflicted with Alzheimer's disease).
Yes, I knew I would miss Sandra but I was also happy that I had met her for she had definitely made a difference to my life. I know I will always cherish our bond of friendship. As I said, memories are enough.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
i wonder why
I have never understood the fascination to live in the west. I always considered myself a proud and patriotic Indian and I promised myself that I would always live in India. But destiny, as it usually does, brought a twist in my tale and made me land here in the US of A. The first thing that struck me about the place was the ubiquitous absence of people (hey,i believe that's an oxymoron) as compared to the throngs of people that were strolling about in the streets, shops, movie halls and name wherever you want back in India. hmmmm, did'nt I feel lonely?
Next came the most important part, viz, the food. I was craving to get a taste of idli or dosa. But in a small town in the US where I live, it's called wishful thinking.(Even if one goes to an Indian restaurant anywhere in the US, what one experiences is not good food, but only a horror story). And I have never been one to test my culinary skills. Hmm, what do I do? Forget the craving signals sent by my hypothalamus and meditate on cereals, macaroni,pasta and what not. Urghhh!! Finally I consoled myself that this will at least give me an opportunity to lose weight!
Adding to my frustration, I learnt that I had to do the household chores all by myself(Sorry, my husband helps too!). Me, who had enjoyed all my life being a couch potato back at home!! I missed my mom very much and tears swelled up my eyes. My husband,also my childhood friend, who was well aware of my perennial laziness was chuckling sarcastically watching me at work and at the moment, I felt that this was a scene from Shakespeare's "Taming of the shrew", me being Katherina.
But most important of all, I missed my parents,sister,uncles,aunts,cousins,grandparents, friends, neighbours,our maid, the auto-drivers standing in the street corner, the priests in the neighborhood temple, the shopkeeper in the nearest grocery shop, the temple bell ringing every morning, the distant sound of the train, the ever-irritating(but now endearing) horn sound of the vehicles, the thunderous shout of the man with his vegetable barrow waking me up from sleep every afternoon.........well,the list seemed endless. This came as a shock to me who had taken people, things, events et al granted all my life. This feeling, this emptiness, came like an unexpected blow to my head.
I really wondered and still wonder why hundreds and thousands of Indians yearn for this life when they have probably everything they want back at home,sweet home! Is it a case of the grass being greener on the other side? Or does my simple mind refuse to see something beautiful and attractive about living here? Some say you experience a luxurious lifestyle here, but what's a good lifestyle without all your loved ones around and the freedom to do what you want and be yourself in your own country? I fail to realize the purpose of life when I have to relinquish everything above mentioned. I wonder and wonder.Someday,i'll probably have an answer. Whatever it is, all said and done, life goes on.......
Next came the most important part, viz, the food. I was craving to get a taste of idli or dosa. But in a small town in the US where I live, it's called wishful thinking.(Even if one goes to an Indian restaurant anywhere in the US, what one experiences is not good food, but only a horror story). And I have never been one to test my culinary skills. Hmm, what do I do? Forget the craving signals sent by my hypothalamus and meditate on cereals, macaroni,pasta and what not. Urghhh!! Finally I consoled myself that this will at least give me an opportunity to lose weight!
Adding to my frustration, I learnt that I had to do the household chores all by myself(Sorry, my husband helps too!). Me, who had enjoyed all my life being a couch potato back at home!! I missed my mom very much and tears swelled up my eyes. My husband,also my childhood friend, who was well aware of my perennial laziness was chuckling sarcastically watching me at work and at the moment, I felt that this was a scene from Shakespeare's "Taming of the shrew", me being Katherina.
But most important of all, I missed my parents,sister,uncles,aunts,cousins,grandparents, friends, neighbours,our maid, the auto-drivers standing in the street corner, the priests in the neighborhood temple, the shopkeeper in the nearest grocery shop, the temple bell ringing every morning, the distant sound of the train, the ever-irritating(but now endearing) horn sound of the vehicles, the thunderous shout of the man with his vegetable barrow waking me up from sleep every afternoon.........well,the list seemed endless. This came as a shock to me who had taken people, things, events et al granted all my life. This feeling, this emptiness, came like an unexpected blow to my head.
I really wondered and still wonder why hundreds and thousands of Indians yearn for this life when they have probably everything they want back at home,sweet home! Is it a case of the grass being greener on the other side? Or does my simple mind refuse to see something beautiful and attractive about living here? Some say you experience a luxurious lifestyle here, but what's a good lifestyle without all your loved ones around and the freedom to do what you want and be yourself in your own country? I fail to realize the purpose of life when I have to relinquish everything above mentioned. I wonder and wonder.Someday,i'll probably have an answer. Whatever it is, all said and done, life goes on.......
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