Anyone who has built a house knows this feeling. It comes towards the end when you think you can never break through the wall that remains to see the light at the end of the tunnel. The euphoria of planning ; of actually seeing the construction grow under your eyes has long evaporated with the long struggle with labour, material, growing costs and changing ideas.
I didn't think it would happen with conducting a wedding. But this weekend was IT point when I just felt, somehow something will happen and I dont care anymore how. I just want it to get over and done with. And for me to regain some semblance of life.
And then today a few things happened.
- Suddenly a couple of friends turned up and cheered us up.For months we've had no visitors and I've hardly been home too; so this was really unexpected.
- I happened to see a bit of the movie Guru on TV. And Guru's/Ambani's indomitable spirit is really fantastic.
- I got sent a 100 point checklist for weddings by mail. My first reaction, was Oh God NO, I dont need this.
But it left me laughing so much, Im thoroughly refreshed. It must have been put together by someone who has been through a lot. Obviously a Brahmin. Those poor souls go through so many more tortuous rituals and formalities , besides do s and donts
' Brother in law involvement in packing
'specify songs- NO TAPPANKUTHU SONGS'
'Disco if reqd provide them at untouchable height'
'Fix two persons to settle any dispute of any nature. Dont allow any other crowd.
For some points he mentions, one person fix.... all others keep quiet.
God does work in mysterious ways. And one of them is to bring together two families with different outlooks so that you learn to tolerate other viewpoints, cultivate diplomacy and really grow from where you've been for so many complacent years.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Bill Bryson
Flying into Australia, I realized with a sigh that I had forgotten again who their PM is. I am forever doing this with the Australian PM- committing the name to memory, forgetting it (generally more or less instantly), then feeling, terribly guilty. my thinking is that there ought to be one person outside Australia who knows.
Down under- Bryson on Australia is pithy, sharply observant, interesting and laced throughout with a wonderful sense of humor.
Bill Bryson is a travel writer par excellence and I recommend him wholeheartedly wherever you are planning to travel. Or even if you are not. Just for the pleasure of reading. You can open his book anywhere, leave it off and continue from somewhere else with no sense of loss.
He's one guy who's kept me afloat these past few months. Which I can't say Shantharam did. One more bestseller abandoned quarter way.
I bid adieu to the wonderful friends I have here for a couple of weeks. When I come back, it will be with one more role to the clutch womens' day articles insist I have.
Down under- Bryson on Australia is pithy, sharply observant, interesting and laced throughout with a wonderful sense of humor.
Bill Bryson is a travel writer par excellence and I recommend him wholeheartedly wherever you are planning to travel. Or even if you are not. Just for the pleasure of reading. You can open his book anywhere, leave it off and continue from somewhere else with no sense of loss.
He's one guy who's kept me afloat these past few months. Which I can't say Shantharam did. One more bestseller abandoned quarter way.
I bid adieu to the wonderful friends I have here for a couple of weeks. When I come back, it will be with one more role to the clutch womens' day articles insist I have.
Mumbai
The first time I went to Mumbai was over 20 years ago as company for a sister who was attending an interview at catering college. We stayed with her friends' family, Kashmiris who were extremely hospitable and welcoming. I remember the sparse cleanliness of their home and the sparse frame of the mother, worn out from a constant rote of household duties in a large family. Even in Broken Hindi, somewhere we were able to connect.
The second time was about 10 years ago with another sister, this time to attend an exam in a hospital. We stayed with another sister's friend's sister. In city style, they had meant to give us only beds but the Indian spirit soon caved in and we were eating a lot of meals with them and they were showing us places .
I suppose we saw the sights of Bombay - but its the memory of our hosts that remains.
Now when I have to go again , this time with my daughter; its still scary. Where will we stay, where will we find accommodation for her, how will we travel?
Foreigners seem to find their way around the country more easily. As I get older, new experiences get more intimidating.
But the great Indian networking system has been ticking. Sister's friends and friend's sisters which is how things work for us- are slowly shedding some light.
Well Im back after a nice slow trip to a fast city.
Impressions-
Bombay is rather like Madras - old worldly and colonial. There are the huge buildings and the little run down repair shops. But not so many hoardings. Driving around is rather pleasant.
Autos and taxis are wonderful. They take you right wherever you want to go. On the meter and its cheap.
But, they are not going to chat with you. In fact, no one is. The anonymity is both wonderfully freeing and depressing.
Every fourth building seems to have a real estate broker.
The electric train is mind boggling. Even first class on Sunday afternoon which Darshini insisted we try for the experience. Second would have been too much of one.
A question to the ladies in there was met with blank stares. Maybe the accent was all wrong. Or just dis involvement.
Traveling by train to Mumbai- its all dry fields and hanging electric wires. A few farmers with ploughs and oxen. Not even tractors. Seen through dirty panes of glass, India is not shining outside its cities.
But every Mumbaite we met swears by their city. They would live no where else.
The second time was about 10 years ago with another sister, this time to attend an exam in a hospital. We stayed with another sister's friend's sister. In city style, they had meant to give us only beds but the Indian spirit soon caved in and we were eating a lot of meals with them and they were showing us places .
I suppose we saw the sights of Bombay - but its the memory of our hosts that remains.
Now when I have to go again , this time with my daughter; its still scary. Where will we stay, where will we find accommodation for her, how will we travel?
Foreigners seem to find their way around the country more easily. As I get older, new experiences get more intimidating.
But the great Indian networking system has been ticking. Sister's friends and friend's sisters which is how things work for us- are slowly shedding some light.
Well Im back after a nice slow trip to a fast city.
Impressions-
Bombay is rather like Madras - old worldly and colonial. There are the huge buildings and the little run down repair shops. But not so many hoardings. Driving around is rather pleasant.
Autos and taxis are wonderful. They take you right wherever you want to go. On the meter and its cheap.
But, they are not going to chat with you. In fact, no one is. The anonymity is both wonderfully freeing and depressing.
Every fourth building seems to have a real estate broker.
The electric train is mind boggling. Even first class on Sunday afternoon which Darshini insisted we try for the experience. Second would have been too much of one.
A question to the ladies in there was met with blank stares. Maybe the accent was all wrong. Or just dis involvement.
Traveling by train to Mumbai- its all dry fields and hanging electric wires. A few farmers with ploughs and oxen. Not even tractors. Seen through dirty panes of glass, India is not shining outside its cities.
But every Mumbaite we met swears by their city. They would live no where else.
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