An ode to Sowmya....

....was written on a paper that I came across today. Well, let me rewind to 15 minutes ago......

I was turning the house upside down to find an important paper for filing our 2010 taxes. The paper was related to Ashok's work and although he insisted that he gave it to me, I couldn't find it with the rest of the paperwork and I had already spent 2 hours going through everything I had. So as a final resort, I went for the ''document bag''. The so-called document bag belongs to Ashok, where he meticulously saves everything from credit card bills to receipts to tax documents year-wise and I have strict instructions not to mess with it.

I figured (like all women...rolling eyes) that as long as I was careful in placing everything like it was stored, there is no harm in checking if the paper was in it. After a few minutes, I came across a bunch of train tickets (thanks to our long distance relationship) and I was just about to move to the next section when I noticed the word ''ode'' and ''mya'' in Ashok's calligraphic handwriting. I pondered just for a few seconds before curiousity overwhelmed me and I was rapidly drawing it out of the bunch.

A quick detour - I am not a fan of poetry, especially those that compare a girl to a flower or a moon. I am not against romance, its just that I like it with a pinch of reality. I find coming home to a warm meal (surprise dinner) after a long day at work more romantic than getting a bunch of roses while at work. I would consider the former comforting, caring and thoughtful and the latter, a nice thought but an unnecessary public display and a waste of money.

Back to the ode - It was on the back of a used train ticket (which is usually an A4 print-out) and it looked like he started writing it to while away the time during the journey. Although I started reading it with a mischievous grin (while I was mentally planning on how to make fun of him!), I had tears streaming down my cheeks when I finished it, with a rush of affection for him (while I was mentally cursing the project deadline that kept him away this weekend).

The ode was simple, cute, extremely well-written with a reminder of how well he knows me and has noticed all my little quirks - some of them lovable, some of them annoying and yet funny. It wasn't blatant flattery but it was like seeing our whole life together on a piece of paper.....I loved it and will treasure it for as long as I live.

We have known each other for 10 years and have been married for 4.5 years and if after all this time, and amidst his hectic schedule, he still finds to write something like this (and feels shy enough to hide it in his ''document bag'') I should consider myself truly blessed :) !

PS: Now one of 2 things is going to happen - he is going to see my blog or someone who sees it is going to tell him. Either way, I am going to get an earful for touching the ''document bag''...well, I deserve it :D !

PPS: I had second thoughts about writing this blog but I told myself - The ode is personal, I wouldn't dream of sharing it with anyone else but the happiness and fierce pride that comes with it is meant to be shared :) !

PPPS: Oh..my, I still haven't found the paper that started it all....

Talking with Amma...

...about frivolous things like a poor-man's version of a complicated recipe or reliving her past like how she felt when Appa came for the penn-parkum ceremony was always something I enjoyed mainly because these occasions were rare and precious. Amma is/was working and was never a housewife. So with both of our schedules and with the menfolk constantly wanting our attention (while amma takes care of appa and Raghav, my job was mainly fighting with either of them either over a topic or over the remote :D), the only time this would happen was just before going to bed. Amma would bring me mango complan (yeah, that's right) to bed and while I sip slowly, the talking would begin.

After I moved to the hostel, these moments became scarce and almost disappeared when I came to Germany. I called/call home once a week, mostly on a sunday, since saturday became a working day for Amma few years ago. The call was always along the same lines, discussing the weather, my health and after marriage, Ashok's health and finally, discussing the likelihood of me becoming a mother in the recent future (read, she bugs me and I pretend to listen).

Today morning I was blissfully sleeping at 9:30 (I made a solemn vow to never wake up before 10am on a saturday unless there was a Rajini movie playing at 11am in the city centre) when the persistent ringing of the phone woke me up. I hurried to pick it up when I saw it was Amma and in spite of all the phones having caller id and me starting with ''solluma'', amma will always begin the call saying ''chowmee, amma pesaren''...and it always makes me grin.

She said she was at work and it was very quiet today since everyone stayed home to watch TV (hmmm...now why would that be :D ??) and she felt like talking to me. I was surprised, I began in a sleepy voice and slowly we talked about a lot, laughed, reminisced and finally when I hung up, I was plastered with a wide grin....we ''talked'' again like good old days, now the only question remaining is how I would satisfy my craving for mango complan now....?!!

Deepavali - Andrum, Indrum

I was looking at the video, it was made when Chowmee was nearly 5 years old. I was so glad Chowmee appa had thought of making a video and had later thought of converting the cassette to a CD. I loved to watch it and it always brought back a rush of memories.

Chowmee was 10 years old. It was 4am in the morning. I could already hear the crackers outside, the hustle and bustle of people in the building. I was still trying to wake her up.

''Ezhunduru chowmee, mani 4 achu!''

"Po ma, enakku thookama varudhu''

''Pattasu vedika poga vendama ? Pakathathu Chitra, Sreeya ellarum ezhundhuta theriyuma??'', I knew that would wake her up and it did.

After she drank her boost, I made her sit down on a stool in front of the bathroom to oil her hair.

''Yennai vechu vidaren vaa, athula kachinadhu, mudi vasanaya irukkum'', as she sleepily sat down on the stool, I sang ''Gowri kalyana vaibogame, Seetha kalyana vaibogame''. I know chowmee liked it when I sang this song. I couldn't help adding ''innum konja varushathala, chowmee kalyana vaibogamenu paduven''.

''kannu eriyardhu ma'' she screamed, when I was applying shikai to her hair and I scolded her, ''kanna irukki mudikonu sonnenolyo?''

After I washed her hair, I let her bathe and I took the new blue and white skirt and blouse remembering how she had wanted the black skirt and how upset she had been after I told her, ''Pandigai nal anniku karuppu potuka koodadhu'' and how she had come back to normal after we had shopped for some matching blue and white hair clips and bangles.

''Amma, naan kulichuten, en dress tha''

''Mudhala thalaya thodachu vidaren, inga vaa'', after drying her hair and taking a few strands from each side to do a small plait it in the middle, I told her, ''Pudhu dress kungumam thadavi vechurukken paaru, swamy namaskaram pannitu edhuthuko''

She came back in a few minutes and said ''Amma, inga paaru'' proudly displaying her new dress. I said ''romba nanna irukku, pattasu vedikarche white colora thodaikara thuni madhri akidadhe''. As she gave me an annoyed look, I smiled and said ''seri, seri, thatha paatikum namaskaram pannu''.

As she was ready to leave to join her other friends, I exclaimed ''Legyam sapda marandhutiye, anga dappala vechurukken, edhuthuko'' and continued to wake the others. When I came back from the bedroom, chowmee was still happily licking the legyam. I immediately took it away from her and said ''Ada ramachandra, adhu bakshanam illadi''. As she licked away the remnants sticking to her mouth, I remembered how she loved the Deepavali Legyam.

The others joined her in a short while and after 1 hour, they all came back, satisfied and hungry. Chowmee called out ''amma pasikardhu, bakshanam tha''. She always took one sweet from each kind I had made on a plate and the mixture in a cup with a spoon. Chowmee appa always said ''ava mattum dhan methodicala sapadra''. She would take them with her and either sit at the window sill watching birds (there would many kinds of them flying around behind our house) or sit next to paati and ask her for a story.

Very soon, weary from having woken up early, she would nap on paati's lap and when I asked paati ''amma, unga kal valika poradhu, avala bedla paduka vechudaren'', paati would cut me off and say ''kozhanda paduthunda kal valikuma enna?"

When chowmee was 14, she came home from school one day and said ''Amma, ineme naan pattasu vedika maaten''. When I queried her about what had happened, she said that she heard stories about child labour in Sivakasi and that many students in the school had made a conscious decision not to burst any crackers and she was one of them.

When she was 18, she was staying in the college hostel and had not come home for Deepavali since she had an exam the very next day. She said it was one of the toughest subjects and so she wanted to spend her time studying instead of traveling. I had called her at the hostel to make sure she had received the packet of sweets I had sent and she happily said ''Amma inga ellar athulayum sweets anupchurka, enga room poora sweet dabbava irukku, padikama ellarum nanna saptu kadai pesindu irukkom !''

When she was 21, she was in Germany. When I called her, I was surprised she was going to a lecture. I asked ''Deepavali anniku koodava lecture irukku?'' and she responded with an irritation in her voice ''Enna ma, Germans Deepavali kondaduvala illa namma kondadaromnu leave viduvala??''. I was afraid to ask if she had purchased a new dress or if she had any sweets that day. I knew the answers already. And when she said ''inniku mattum naan Madrasla nammathula irundhu irundha evalo jollya irukkum illa?'', I suppressed my tears and told her that she could plan to come the next year and fervently hoped she would.

When she was 25, I was expecting her call. I still couldn't believe that my Chowmee was all grown up, was married and it was her thalai Deepavali today and she was living 1000s of miles away. She had already refused my offer of buying a pattu sari for her and a pant-shirt for Mapillai and sending it by post. When she called, she said ''Amma, inga Indian communityla oru party irukku. Adhuku innum konja nerathula naanga po porom'', I was happy that she was celebrating thalai Deepavali with her husband and that's what mattered.

When she was 26, she was in Chennai for the Grihapravesam of her house and I was overjoyed when she decided to stay for Deepavali. I knew she would stay at her in-laws' place but I also knew that I could visit her there. I celebrated Deepavali with my little girl after 10 years.

A sudden ringing jolted me out of my reverie and when I realised it was the phone, I answered it eagerly. Hearing ''Amma, chowmee pesaren'' always made me happy. She was calling from work to wish me and after giving her my Deepavali Asirvatham and speaking with her for a few minutes, I knew it was time for her to go back to work. After she hung up I realised that Deepavali simply wasn't the same anymore...maybe...maybe it will change when chowmee's little girl or boy is around....

Vethalapakku in Germany

Navarathri means a bunch of memories….small girls running around in pattu pavadais, listening to carnatic music, dodging from having to sing carnatic songs, kutti krishnars playing with kutti kurathis, thengai smell from all the different varieties of sundal, temple visits, covers and covers of vethalapakku, last minute adjustments to the mud park or refilling the choppu saman of chettiyar bommai with rice or dal, muddling with the twinkle lights that suddenly stop working, singing loudly at the end-of-the-day aarthi with a sense of accomplishment…..and now you know why I end up with a dazed look for a few minutes everytime someone mentions the word.

For the last few years Navarathri also meant….

….calling home every alternate day to listen to the latest golu kadai – also an excuse to listen to amma say ‘nee illama golu golu madhiriye illa’ as often as possible

….calling periyava over the weekend to convey Navarathri namaskaram

….watching TV or newspaper clips of a friend or relative’s golu and then calling them to hear them describe it very proudly

….congratulating friends in the US for taking the effort to create a walmart-ikea style 1 step or 3 step Golu with bommais that they carefully brought from India

….listening to subrabatham and all other sacred chants I have on my laptop on Vijayadasami and actually attempting to do something new and useful (I always feel guilty and wrong if I don’t stick to my Vijayadasami schedule….habits die hard!)

And this year, there was a wonderful addition to that list…being invited to vethalapakku !! Until this year, I did not have any tambram friends in Germany who actually managed to celebrate Navarathri and so this year, when I got an invitation for vethalapakku, I jumped at it even though the family lived 135 km away. Ever since I got the invitation, I had this mental image of celebrating the day exactly like I would have, had I been in singara Chennai. The one thing I forgot to factor was the weather….the @”§%§$%@! weather !

I woke up to find it raining and the maximum temperature was 6 deg C. As I realized that I would never survive the travel in a cotton salwar (that I had happily unpacked from my suitcase for this occasion) on such a day, I also thought to myself “There is no way I am getting vethalapakku in a jeans and pullover”. As I reached their house, the first thing I saw was a kutti girl in pattu pavadai waving to me from the balcony and my spirits soared. As soon as I got in, I told my friend to give me 5 minutes and then I happily got rid of the jacket and the boots and the scarf and the what not and changed into my cotton salwar (that I had packed and protected from the weather), took my time to wear matching bangles and earrings, made sure my bindi was not washed off in the rain and finally took a look in the mirror and felt ‘This feels like Navarathri’ :)

I came out and saw that my friend’s family that also included her in-laws from Chennai were all traditionally dressed too and as they invited me to lunch, my heart skipped a beat at the sight of the vazha elai (banana leaf)…never before had I had food in a vazha elai in Germany ! I sat there smiling (read, showing all my teeth) when my friend’s mother-in-law slowly filled up the elai with all the items in the right order – payasam, followed by pachidi, followed by kootu, kai, vadai, rice, paruppu and nei (ghee). I usually make a small gap for the sambar right in the middle of the paruppu sadham and my cousin always said ‘paaruda, dam katta aramabichita’…with that fond memory began my lunch, my very special Navarathri lunch :)

After lunch, we spent time talking (maybe a little gossiping :D), looking at photos and then I spent some time playing cards (remember the memory game?) with the little girl…and before we realized it was time for coffee. After the namaskaram-vethalapakku and take-some-sundal-for-the-journey-back session, I started getting ready to leave, politely declining the invitation for evening tiffin (I wasn’t going to abuse the invitation, I want another one for next year!). Some hugs, some goodbyes later, I was going back home after what felt like a day with my cousins, a day with my cousins during Navarathri....

PS: I have to write this in Thanglish, any charm will be lost in translation.

Raksha Bandan

My first brush with Raksha Bandan was in school, when I was 10 years old. My Marwadi classmate came to school with a brightly colored red and golden band, lavishly decorated with pearl strings tied to his wrist. Even at that age, with no idea whatsoever of fashion, it still felt weird to see a boy wearing something like this. None of my friends seemed to know what it was. I had to wait until lunch to abate my curiosity and asked the Marwadi girl in another section about it and her words were "Its Raksha Bandan, his sister tied it (Rakhi) to his wrist and he will give her a gift". I was left wondering why we didn't have something like that where I could get my presents from my brothers (I included my cousins too :D) in exchange for Rakhis.

It wasn't until I was 12 that I learnt the true meaning, weirdly from an old South Indian movie, Bharatha Vilas. Shivaji suspects his neighbour's son of carrying on with his daughter when they both solemnly swear that nothing is going on. The truth is revealed only when his neighbour's son joins the army and writes to Shivaji's daughter with a Rakhi, explaining Raksha Bandan and wishing that she was there to tie it to his wrist. I can still recall the letter and it was beautifully written describing how girls were tying Rakhis to army soldiers and praying for their welfare and needless to say, with Shivaji reading it, with all the right pauses to highlight the emotions, its not something that I would forget soon.

At 15, Raksha Bandan was seen in quite a different light in school. Most guys would try (in vain) to avoid the girls they have a crush on, in fear of being accosted by them with a Rakhi and girls (mean devils that they are :D) determined to get those guys off their backs will do all they can to tie the pink band (adding insult to injury) to their wrists !

I never really believed in making anyone a 'brother' by tying a Rakhi...somehow it seemed meaningless to try and kindle brotherly feelings by force and those who really were close like brothers needed no wrist-band affirmations ! Well, if everyone thought the same way, it would indeed be boring...and so to satisfy one such 'brother' (who actually proudly showed off his Rakhis) I borrowed one from a friend and proceeded to his class room. On the way, I saw a guy, a senior, who I was acquainted with, approaching me from the other end of the corridor. As he came closer, I saw a look of horror on his face and noticed that he was staring at the Rakhi and very soon, he sprinted straight for the stairs. After the completely bewildering moment, I proceeded to tie it to my 'brother'. The guy noticed it from the next floor and gave me a sheepish grin. I am sure he had plans on letting me know that he liked me but I am equally sure that this was not one of them !

The concept of using Raksha Bandan as a get-out-of-unwanted-crushes card was pushed to a different level in Nerukku Ner when Vijay makes Kousalya confess that she likes him by her refusal to tie a Rakhi to him. Oh..well..this isn't the first time that people and movies make a mockery of a nice tradition.

I used to wonder if there was a South Indian equivalent when I remembered kakka pidi-kanu pidi, where sisters pray for their brothers' well being and in-turn get gifts from them.

After the 'Rakhi' wave receded, the next one was the 'friendship bands' and those stories would have to wait until another time....

Picture copyright: http://www.panasianbiz.com/asia/india/raksha-bandhan-2009-rakhi-2009-muhurat-for-rakhi/