Category: Yesterday

Ok, its alright with me…..

As I walked towards the parking space to get the vehicle, the lion and the clown beckoned to me. While their masks sported plastic smiles, i could sense the beseeching look their eyes would have. It was almost the end of the day, and when I peeped inside as I walked past, I could find rows and rows of empty counters and mannequins and sales people with equally blank expressions. It wasn’t the first time I had seen this shop and wondered how they managed to stay afloat. I see it whenever traffic gets held up in the junction. At the heart of the central business district, I am sure it must have seen better times, maybe a time before the malls and the big brands… what plans they must’ve made about sales and revenues and good times…wonder if it really matters now…

As i rode home, I got stuck in one of those endless traffic snarls that is as characteristic of this city now as a by-two coffee in darshinis. As the honks became louder and tempers got frayed, I thought the ordeal would never end. But suddenly, the traffic began to move slowly. As I turned a corner, literally and figuratively, I could see a little distance way, a civilian directing traffic. I would’ve thanked him, but by the time I got there, the traffic was moving briskly, and he had crossed the road and disappeared into a lane. I’m sure he wasn’t getting paid, and he didn’t have any plans other than to undo a few knots…

I make plans… and you make plans.. some plans are better than others… sometimes I have to do what I have to do.. and sometimes, like the Joker, I’m a dog chasing cars, I wouldn’t know what to do if i caught one… but yet, more often than not, Krishna’s words in the Bhagvad Gita make sense. But one is attached – for fame, money, love, combinations of the above and a myriad other reasons.. it is never easy to be detached. I feel sorry for the shop even if they were greedy, and I am envious of the man who walked away after he did what he had to do..

Plans.. there were things I thought I couldn’t do without, a few years back, a lifestyle which I didn’t want to alter, I thought a way of living could be kept constant across time, but things change, for a few days I may have mourned, and then I moved on.. they make good nostalgia frames – time, places, things, people.. they all have a role to play..if you told me then that I would be living without them at a later date, I’d have smiled at you, a knowing smile acknowledging your silliness. But yet, here I am, with a new set that I don’t think I can live without…

Ok it’s alright with me some things are just meant to be
it never comes easily and when it does i’m already gone
i’m practically never still more likely to move until i end up alone at will
my life continues inching along

[Eric Hutchinson – Ok it’s alright with me]

So i move along, and I reach a place and I wonder how it all started… And I realise that even the attachment I claim is such a flimsy piece of string, it unravels for a while, and then at some point, the memory gets cut off, and then perhaps I make up the rest in the image of how it should have started…

I promise you, I have not changed the beginning of this post, this was an experiment of a thought stream, of giving up control, of not being a hostage to plans, but I have to wonder, if I knew this was the way it would end, would I have started differently?

until next time, post….life

Note: I’d written this post a while back, and it was almost forgotten in ‘drafts’. Chanced upon it, and realised it made sense to publish it on the day before I leave this workplace. 8 years after i started working, I’m finally going to work… for me 🙂

February 24, 2010
Once in a blue moon..

..comes a movie, these days, that forces me to write about it thanks to its mindblowing simplicity. Yes, that is a rare combination of words, at least for me. 🙂

I had hoped to watch Neelathamara when I’d gone home last, but was quite surprised to find that it wasn’t playing anymore in any of the theatres in Cochin. So, when it was released in PVR a fortnight back, I made it a point to book in advance, since very few Malayalam movies last beyond a week here. We had some drama off the screen, since Sreedevi Unni, who has a major role in the movie, was also in the theatre. Also, the entire title sequence was shown in split screen despite the traditional howling protests. Apparently the projection guy was busy with his dinner!! 🙂

In this age when the “poor girl meets rich boy and falls in love” theme is used mainly in film spoofs, it is perhaps impossible to imagine that this seemingly flimsy storyline can evolve into a movie that kept me spellbound for almost 2 hours. Neelathamara would translate to “blue lotus”, but as a character points out in the beginning of the movie, the flower in question is really not a lotus. But it does serve as a symbol of dreams, faith and perhaps, illusions too.

The movie is based on an original story by M.T.Vasudevan Nair, and was also made into a movie way back in 1979, with him writing the script. This is a modern retelling and the same author has made a few tweaks to suit a modern audience. Kudos to him for doing that but yet ensuring that the simplicity of the original story is retained. I couldn’t slot this movie into any pre defined movie category of mine. It didn’t make me think, it is definitely not timepass, it does not serve out dollops of comedy/drama/action and yet it affected me more than any recent movie has.

So what really was it that worked? There were a set of well written characters, who retained a certain integrity about themselves. Each of them were special in their own way, and not just the main characters, but the supporting cast too -Sreedevi Unni as the hero’s mother, Rima Kallingal as Ammini (after the urban woman in rithu, this character was a polar opposite, but handled well), Samvrutha as Ratnam in a neat cameo, the bhagavathar who never appears on screen, but whose music adds so much to the movie, the aashaan whose wise words about the nature of life remained with me, they all played a crucial part. The author also managed to leave a few things to the viewer’s imagination, giving enough hints to help complete the story. (Ammini’s story) Archana who plays the principal character of Kunjimalu steals the show with her subtle rendition. And though the hero is really no match, (erm, no pun intended, really) his portrayal of a character whose interest in the girl is at best a distraction, is quite genuine.

The songs are absolutely fantastic, and while sublime in themselves, also manage to take the storyline forward. This would be my favourite.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCk2KM-j0EE

The movie runs at its own pace, and yet never managed to bore me. A lot of it had perhaps to do with the way it has re-captured a rustic Kerala setting from a few decades back. The temple, temple pond gossip, aalmaram conversations, they seem a world from long ago, simple and almost self sufficient. I think that’s just it. While I was born in a city and lived all my life there, the world the movie is set in, is one I am familiar with, thanks to vacations and temple visits. The movie was a journey in time, and more than a place and time, it was a way of life. It rekindled a hope in me, that one day I’ll be able to go back to Kerala, and live in that state.. of mind. Its a dream of simplicity, my very own neelathamara.

until next time, if you haven’t done so yet, visit the spanking new home – www.manuprasad.com 🙂

February 3, 2010
Collage

Not that I’m going to bore you with events from Y2K on, I have other stuff to do that with, but a decade can be a long time. And when there are events to add some perspective to that timeframe, it makes it even more poignant. That’s exactly what happened when, thanks to a get-together organised by batchmates, I realised that its been 10 years since we passed out of that place. (‘passed out at’ is equally applicable, thanks to a few classes!!) What makes it fun is that while I got myself a degree, and so did D, she claims that she lost whatever degree of sanity she had before she crossed paths with me. 😀

So, the place where we became er, engineers. I’ve always wanted that – Er, for engineer. Like Dr for Doctor. Er.Manu. Er, ok, let’s move on. Like the place has. While not entirely unrecognisable, its changed considerably. New buildings, better access roads, well maintained gardens. And they actually have speakers starting from about 200 m from the college, that play music to de-stress students. Just a vowel movement from our times of distress!! Hmmph.

The current batches were on vacation, which meant D and I could walk around and click away to our hearts content. We walked around the college campus with a few of our friends. Many of them are now responsible parents – mostly to toddlers. Kids who are too young for me to tell them that I have seen his/her father in the same state, if not age. Toddy tales for toddlers are perhaps not a great idea. So we talked about teachers and papers and cricket matches and strikes. Memories were rekindled, legs were pulled, tall claims made about the life and times from more than a decade back.

And just so that I can come back here and revisit the road once traveled, here are a few snapshots.Walk with me 🙂

Since there are no shortcuts to success, there is no lift, and we used to have many classes scheduled right on the top floor. It also meant that teachers took longer to reach the class, and students got themselves an excuse to loiter. And so it was, that when a teacher was spotted beginning the long climb, an announcement was made by whoever happened to be surveying the scene. Usually the teacher’s nickname was used. 😀

Surveying. Right at the basement was our department’s preferred source of dehydration. So more people passed out than passed thanks to the heat. During exams, we were tested by being asked to find the distance between two inaccessible points. Since in reality, they were accessible, kids figured ways to actually measure the distances so that they knew the answer. That made it even more difficult, since many had no idea how to arrive at that answer on paper. 😀

Workshop. One of the 2 papers in 4 years that made me re-appear for an exam. For D, the only one. I liked metal, but the damn thing refused to be filed away. I appeared the next year with a wooden smile. I got a block of wood this time. Everything dove tailed into place.

Learned of love and ABC’s,

It wasn’t really all work. Our sports ground. Weekends were the main periods of activity, and since I used to hop on to a Cochin bus every Friday evening, I seldom played. The building on the left was my hostel in the third year, and the one on the right in the final year. We got single rooms in the final year. I still remember the ‘Sifar’ (Lucky Ali) poster on my door, with the picture of an open palm. Ironically, I was an SFI member (student wing of the Communists), as opposed to the KSU (the Congress’ student wing, sharing its symbol)

skinned our hearts and skinned our knees.

The corridor that has heard my voice many many times. Shouting slogans. Trying to out-shout my counterpart in the opposing party. And the singing, since the auditorium was here too. Two worlds, two voices, both sound asleep now. 🙂

And thanks to the first set of activities, I was called to this room occasionally. The principal’s. At one time, we had the entire batch sitting in front of his room because he wouldn’t let us go to Goa for our study tour. He also happened to be a schoolmate’s father, which made me feel rather guilty whenever I cracked jokes/made slogans at his expense. 😀

And every time that I was down

Another place of great intrigue. I have only gone beyond this gate once. Into the building that is, not the other way. This is the LH – Ladies Hostel. The one time I went in was during the election campaign. And I was made to sing. Who suffered more, is just a matter of perspective. 😀

Apparently other souls used to surf around much more frequently. Once someone climbed on to this building’s terrace and dumped washing powder into their huge water tank. Since the water was also used for cooking, the tank had to be emptied and cleaned, so the entire batch got a few days of leave.

And when I was not making a fool of myself singing, I was playing Dumb C. This is the place where we won a Dumb C competition at the college for the first time. We even cracked the Dumb Dumb C round, which was still a novelty then. 🙂

And when I wasn’t busy with all the other stuff, this is where I could be found, in the classroom. We couldn’t go in this time, the room was locked. But thankfully, so are the memories.

I wish that we could both be there.

We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.
But the hills that we climbed
were just seasons out of time

They said D and I hadn’t changed much. Oh, but we have, I wanted to say. But I smiled, because I was still wondering how, when, and why. The college still poses difficult questions, but there’s a degree of comfort in knowing that life and I can move on, sometimes even without answers. 🙂

until next time, snap out 🙂

January 20, 2010
Some books are priceless…

There is this habit I picked up from my dad – of unfailingly writing down the daily expenses. From experience, it is an excellent way of financially disciplining oneself, and that is my account book’s raison d’etre. But over a period of time, it has become a cherished belonging for a different reason. This December, when I close the month’s accounts, I will finish the book’s 160-odd pages. Each month, on an average, takes about 2 pages, and now you must have guessed why it is special. It chronicles the days of our life – D’s and mine, in the form of expenses, for the past 6+ years.

As I flip through the pages, I can see in my mind’s eye, snapshots of our life , from April of 2003 – our 10 year old Kiney getting repaired, for the umpteenth time, pleading for moksha, the dinners at the now non existent restaurant in Koramangala we used to haunt, the shopping at the then favourite brand Weekender, the old phone booth STD calls, because mobile rates were too high, the jackets we bought for the surprisingly cold Bangalore rains, the much awaited trips to Kerala, the doctor visits in the first December in Bangalore because of a cough that just wouldn’t let go, the Rs.12 haircut, browsing at the nearby internet cafe, the friendly neighbourhood Mallu store, the first visit to Barista and the nervousness due to the unfamiliar surroundings, CDs from the library nearby, Archies cards for Valentine’s Day, and cakes for birthdays. The area around JNC in Koramangala as the preferred cloth shopping destination.

The first mall experience courtesy Forum, end of CD lending, and the rise of PVR. Foodworld – which meant that the local Mallu store was slowly forgotten. Landmark and the continuing era of book shopping, the thrill of owning a computer, of having to explain why it still made sense without internet, floppies, chaats on the roadside, our first Strand book sale, and the joy of having bought so many books. The discovery of Megamart and budget shopping.

The boredom with Barista and the testing out of Coffee Day and Coffee World for a different experience, the discovery of Corner House and surviving a December without the need for a doctor, the ascent of the credit card, the discovery of instant Dosamix, the first digital camera, the Exercycle, the feeling that the Strand book festival was no more really value for money, and the shift to a new neighbourhood, and new jobs. Insurance premiums and mutual funds. The Fab India era.

Vacations. Buses giving way to trains to low cost flights. Making a visit to the Strand sale only because tradition demanded it, and because I had the feeling I would be able to complete my ‘Foundation’ collection this time, Tata Sky, and Thoms bread. The friendly neighbourhood theatre and late night Mallu movies. Broadband at home. Bangalore Central and Indiranagar 100 ft Road as preferred shopping destinations.

The beginning of the Blossoms addiction, the return to Koramangala, Star Bazaar and the 10 pm movies at PVR. Morning Yoga classes. D’s hep life and the end of roadside chaats. The death of low cost flights. Apollo clinic and the return of the cough. Blog hosting and domain registration costs. Lifestyle as preferred shopping destination. The return of Fab India – for curtains and sheets….. and we’re almost in the present..

These were samples, each date has a storyline, many of them forgotten, some still fresh. An offline lifestream, a treasure trove of memories, that helps me take stock and converts what could’ve been mundane into an important part of life. As days pass into months and years, we have changed, perhaps seamlessly, but with the book, it is easy to see how and when it happened, and when one sits down and thinks, it is easy to figure out the why too.. Gradual changes to set patterns and cycles. I realise I miss many of those things, places and routines. At the beginning of 2010,the vision is still perhaps half perfect, but when I turn back time through these pages, it is good to see the distance we have traveled, and to note the things that haven’t really changed.

I will entrust the book with my other travel companion. They belong to the same category and will feel a sense of belonging with each other. And as I wrote the expenses of December 31st 2009, and ended the year, I wondered if this dear book, if it could speak, would have something to say like Edie Britt in her farewell episode

As I looked down on the world I began to let go of it……. I let go all those things which seems so ordinary but when you put them together they make up a life.

until next time, figures of speech

January 6, 2010
Progress report

One of the most memorable parts of the Andaman trip was the conversation I had with D, on the day we went aimlessly walking on the promenade. The conversation also seemed to understand the mood and was in its own way, aimless. As i wrote in one of the posts, I am fascinated by night lights, especially by the sea shore. It reminds me of Cochin, and sends waves of nostalgia at me.

The entire trip had also made me wonder about human ‘progress’ and the motivation behind it. In a few minutes, the conversation that began there navigated itself to individual motivations. The comparisons with the Leh trip that I’d made a couple of hours before at Corbyn were still fresh in my mind. I had set expectations for this trip even before i started out – expectations not based on any previous trip to Andaman, but on previous vacations. I thought loudly on what these expectations were – the beauty of the place? the feelings the place and people evoked in us? a getaway from the daily grind? A new setting and a scope for ‘discovery’? Comfortable stay, good food? Probably any or all of these. Anyway the expectations were set.

And then D brought up one unacknowledged aspect – our projection of how wonderful the trip was, best characterised by the photos we share on FB and other private albums. (earlier, family gatherings and conversations) Isn’t that an expectation in itself – a proof of good times? Sometimes for ourselves, sometimes for others. I thought that was a good place to start understanding our motivation.

From childhood, when we had richer cousins/friends flaunting their better toys, or showing us snaps of places they’d been to, or talking about the wonderful food they’ve eaten, a kind of motivation existed – to match better that at some point in the future. A driving force that dictated the choices made in life, which justified the ‘sacrifices’ made. Study hard to get better grades, to get a better job, to make more money and to finally get all the things that the cousins/friends had, even if it was a couple of decades late, all the stuff that can be a justification for what is (in a sense) euphemistically called the rat race. And then to look back at the proof of achievement and let out an audible sigh of accomplishment.

The problem arises perhaps not from being a rat even at the end of the race, but probably the realisation that a personal motivation got subverted into a generic rat race, which then became a motivation in itself. The rest of the life story would depend on the stance towards the original motivation. In many cases, the race stops, the baggage is dropped and a path of ‘self discovery’ is started.

In my personal map, this is the place where I see a ‘You are here’ sign. I would’ve been happy with this, if I hadn’t realised that it has the same ending as the rat race. The path is different, and because there are no obvious indicators like the rat race, I have to evolve my own set of indicators. But the desired end is the same, simplistically put, personal growth, with previously decided benchmarks. The consolation offered is that it was reached on one’s own terms. I wonder, is it really one’s own terms if the destination is no different?

Ayn Rand said “Man’s ego is the fountainhead of human progress”. Human progress, not just from a humankind perspective – the places and things he builds, but a deeply personal one too, as the ‘ego’ would indicate. I was conscious of this when I shared the Andaman photos, conscious that somewhere, someone was setting a benchmark and the beginning of a race, just like I had, and continue to do, even outside the rat race. And I wonder whether I’ve really replaced one rat race with another in my case. And I still continue to wonder about ‘progress’.

until next time, progress cards with my own signature :]

November 25, 2009