tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79081465079520249882024-03-07T21:19:07.516-08:00Doodleseljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-53758061061695228022009-04-26T07:40:00.000-07:002009-04-26T07:49:57.440-07:00Back Again!!!Hola Amigos! Or even better in George <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92jKBDyCIlg">Thekkemoottil’s</a> <em>basha</em>*, What is up, doggies???<br /><br />Yes, yes I do know that I had disappeared from blog action for a long long time. But I am back in a new and improved version (Just like those old Surf Excel ads). It is up to you, my friends to decide how much improved have I become. As my regular 2 readers would know that Iz arrived 4 months back. She is a sweet tempered child that sometimes I doubt whether she is my baby and then she starts howling and I rest assured that she is 100% mine ;-)<br /><br />I do have loads of tales to tell, but l have been lacking the motivation to blog and also my best friend “lazyness” never left my side. Now that my friend has taken a short break I thought I would post.<br /><br />You know after my delivery I had visions of instantly turning into a “yummy mummy” like Malaika Arora & Karishma Kapoor, but when I saw myself in the mirror I got a shock, I still looked 9 months pregnant. Hubz even thought that I had another baby in my tummy. Now after 4 months I have partially reached my dream. I have become a mummy but have miles to go before I reach the yummy part.<br /><br />As regards the improvement in me, I think I have become the female version of this <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0255798/">guy</a>. When I first saw the movie I laughed because it was so ludicrous. But now when I see myself I have great respect for Tom Brady who is the brains behind the movie. You still don’t believe this, let me explain further. By the last term of my pregnancy I had become what some people would call as a cross between a beached whale cum elephant. Also the way I walked at office my colleagues very lovingly called it “the waddle”. Like MJ patented the moonwalk, I had patented “the waddle” which would mean that I am in the territory of Mrs.Duck. Once Iz came into my life I was alternating between a proud mother hen clucking away to glory looking at the perfect little fingers and toes and a tigress protecting her cub. I didn’t let her out of sight even for a second. Of course the other word for my behavior is paranoia but I am sure most new moms are like this. Since in my earlier life I was somebody who needed a minimum of 10 hours sleep to be sweet tempered and civil, just imagine my plight when all I got was a few catnaps in betweeen the endless feeding sessions. Of course hubz was the one who bore the brunt of it as I was barking at him all the time. Poor guy was so traumatized that now also he looks for reasons to be away from home so that he can move away from the line of fire. Of course now that Iz has grown up a bit and we understand each other better, Iz & me have loads of fun monkeying around . <br /><br />.<br />.<br />.<br />Whaaat???Even after all this explanation, you guys still don’t believe that I am the female Rob Schneider… Alright … Just ask Hubz… He will surely agree …. ;-) <br /><br />*<em>basha</em> : languageeljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-62511144494070964502008-10-21T08:06:00.000-07:002008-10-21T08:08:33.148-07:00Hmmm!Hmmm, it’s been a loooonnngggg time since I have been giving the cold shoulder to this tiny space of mine. I have several solid reasons that I can tell you but I am not sure whether you have the patience to listen to them.<br /><br />Well, excuse no: 1: Pregnancy - I tell you, this is an excellent excuse to get away with anything and everything :-)<br /><br />Sample this …<br />Hubz: "Why have you not posted nephew’s b’day card?"<br />Eljo: *said b’day card had totally skipped her mind, takes some time to think* "Oh, I am pregnant!!! How can you ask me to do any task???!#&$&"<br /><br />Hubz: *comes home tired hoping to eat something nice and warm. Sees there is no food* “What??? No dinner??? ”<br />Eljo: *busy switching channels on TV* “Hmmm, I am pregnant. How can you expect me to cook food??? #@^$& ”<br /><br />Eljo: *busy polishing off chocolate mousse cake before moving on to palada payasam which a friend has generously shared*<br />Hubz: *looks on with genuine wonder as to how one person can eat so much*<br />Eljo: “Don’t even think about it!!! I am pregnant and I have the license to hog”<br />Hubz: “But I didn’t even say anything…”<br /><br />So you see dear people, this one reason itself has been so good and effective that I haven’t had the opportunity to rack my brains for any other reason. But now that there is barely 8 weeks of pregnancy left, I have to seriously start thinking of other reasons to continue my obnoxious behaviour and generally take life easy.<br /><br />So my dear peoples, please to give me some solid reasons so that I can continue to get away with doing exactly as I please and poor Hubz has no choice but to keep his mouth shut. Your suggestions would be tried on Hubz to test the effectiveness and the person who offers the most successful suggestion would have my undying gratitude and can expect similar suggestions from me in their times of need ;-)eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-87282643386542010952008-06-23T08:20:00.000-07:002008-06-23T08:22:49.373-07:00Back!* comes wearing a <em>thorth</em> on the head and checks if anybody is looking. Relieved that nobody is looking, quickly posts and scoots away lest she gets some <em>pulicha therry</em> from blogfriends*<br /><br />Me dears, I don’t think anybody would have really noticed my leave of absence from the blogging world. Yeah, yeah, except for the two of you :-)<br /><br />Well, hubz and me have been on this mission to expand the Indian population in Holland.<br />If all goes well by end Dec / early Jan, we will be adding one more crazy mallu to our midst.<br /><br />So why this long delay ??? you rightly ask…<br /><br />Me dears, by no means is this an easy mission. The only silver lining I see currently is the license to hog. While earlier people would look horrifyingly at fast disappearing plates kept in front of me, now people look indulgently.<br /><br />Me seriously thinks that hubz is also having some “good news”. This mind boggling Sherlock Holmes kinda deduction was made after observing hubz’s ever increasing appetite. You know one way its good to have company as we both can waddle to some nice restaurant and polish off food like there is no tomorrow and still not feel the lightest tinge of guilt.<br /><br />So bring on all the high caloried till now eating only in dreams kinda grub. We believe in not wasting any golden opportunity :-)<br /><br />See ya around …<br /><br />Index:<br /><em>Thorth</em> – towel<br /><em>Pulicha therry</em> – not to be confused with ripe cherry. Plainly put means choicest abuses.eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-18148580273675353862008-04-18T05:48:00.000-07:002008-04-18T05:52:06.863-07:00Hair Raising Tales – Part II<strong>Statutory Warning: Any resemblance to any living persons are purely intentional ;-p<br /></strong><br />Scene 1:<br /><br />Cast: Guy, Gal and Gal’s sis on visit<br />Time : Friday evening relaxing at home in the weekend mode.<br /><br /><br />Gal : *depressed as her new hair cut is not making her look younger. In fact, it makes her look like a wet hen with spiked feathers, owing to the stupid mousse the hairdresser used* “My hair is a disaster $(#%(#%)%”<br /><br />Guy: “Here, have a glass of red wine” *Guy’s way of solving all problems in the world is by having a glass of red wine. Alternate solution is having a glass of beer of course!*<br /><br /><br />Scene 2:<br /><br />Gal: *Drinking her red wine contemplating for the nth time why the hairdresser had to use the mousse*<br /><br />Sis: “Chech, remember the fringe you had ages ago???”<br /><br />Gal: *getting out of her reverie* “What, where, when??? Oh, the one I had a decade ago! ”<br /><br />Guy : *guffawing* “Fringe!@#$& You had a fringe ”<br />Gal: *selective hearing mode on. Conveniently ignores Guy. Listens to Sis*<br /><br />Sis: “You know you used to look quite cute with the fringe. ”<br /><br />Guy: *still guffawing* “Fringe!@#$& You had a fringe ”<br /><br /><br />Scene 3:<br /><br />Gal: *slinks away to the bedroom and chops off a lock of hair, looks at the mirror and checks whether she looks 10 years younger. Sees that answer is <strong>NO</strong> and chops off some more*<br /><br />Guy & Sis: *hears no sound of Gal and comes to inspect, as they are sure that Gal is upto some mischief as she is unusually quiet*<br /><br />Sis: What???@$$)@#$* You cut your hair.<br /><br />Gal: *a wry grimace and tries to cover up the disaster*<br /><br />Guy: *still guffawing* “Fringe!@#$& Now, you have a fringe. Is this what is called Fringe Benefits??? ”<br /><br />Sis: “You know we should cut some more, then only it will be even”<br /><br />Gal: *Lets Sis chop off some more hair*<br /><br />Scene 4:<br /><br />Gal: *gets up in the morning. Sees the “fringe” standing up like that of Dennis, the Menace. Infact looks even worse; it actually resembles a “ra” written in Malayalam* “Sis#@*$* you better take a life insurance. There’s no way I am letting you walk away from this. ”<br /><br />Guy: *howling with laugher, but tries to muffle his laughter owing to the steely glare from the gal*<br /><br />Sis: *slinking away and not making any smartass comments owing to her fear for her life*<br /><br /><br />Scene 5:<br /><br />Gal * desperately applying water, oil, gel to straighten the said “RA” to make it look more decent & respectable*<br /><br />Moral of the story: Never underestimate the power of one glass of red wine especially when drunk on an empty stomach. It makes you do unimaginable things….<br /><br />**********eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-317808489772289522008-04-10T07:54:00.000-07:002008-04-14T05:29:46.894-07:00Tagged Again!!!After the last tag, I thought my <a href="http://wetspark.blogspot.com/">blog friend </a>had enough of me, but NO! He has <a href="http://wetspark.blogspot.com/2008/03/little-nadas-of-myself.html">tagged</a> me again. You have no choice but to obey the BIG CHEF.<br />Warning: These trivias of self has the potential to give you a headache. So read it at your own risk….<br /><br />1. LAST MOVIE YOU SAW IN A THEATER: Now movie theatres and me don’t get along well. I prefer watching movies in the comfort of my home without taking the trouble to dress up and looking presentable. I guess the last movie in a theatre was Om Shanti Om.<br /><br />2. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING? Stopped serious reading ever since I got married as I realised the food doesn’t cook by itself and the clothes don’t wash by itself. How I wish I had a magic wand!!! The problem with me is that when I get a good book I forget time and place and don’t budge until I finish reading. Currently re-reading “Daddy Long Legs” by Jean Webster in e-version. I had read this book umpteen times but still feel all mushy and nice when I read this book.<br /><br />3. FAVORITE BOARD GAME? Don’t have the brains or patience for anything except Snake & Ladders and may be Carom. But I am terrible at Carom.<br /><br />4. FAVORITE MAGAZINE? Used to be Reader’s digest, but now I find that it has more ads and pics than content. So I stick with old issues of RD, courtesy FIL’s book collection.<br /><br />5. FAVORITE SMELLS? Nail polish / Paint, Kerosene, Aroma of freshly cooked food wafting from Mom’s kitchen (anything except fish and meat), Smell of citric fruits.<br /><br />6. FAVORITE SOUND? Mom humming in the kitchen. Hearing the ruckus the entire family creates on get-togethers especially the little cousins.<br /><br />7. WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD? Feeling helpless.<br /><br />8. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE?<br />What do I make for breakfast????<br /><br />9. FAVORITE FAST FOOD PLACE? A nameless chat-wala who sits next to Roopak Dry fruit centre in Ajmal Khan Market in Delhi. He makes the most amazing Aloo chat and Aloo tikki.<br /><br />10. FUTURE CHILD'S NAME? After loads of fights, tears and tantrums (from my side), Hubz & me have agreed on ISABEL. Fighting, tearing and tantrumming still continuing on a suitable Boy name.<br /><br />11. FINISH THIS STATEMENT. "IF I HAD A LOT OF MONEY I’D...?Quit my job and open a children’s library. It would be exactly like Meg Ryan’s “Shop around the corner” in “You’ve got mail”<br /><br />12. DO YOU DRIVE FAST? I hate driving and I don’t drive unless there is absolutely no other way. I drive SLOW.<br /><br />13. DO YOU SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL? Would Hubz count? To my defence, he is really stuffed to the gills after dinner ;-)<br /><br />14. STORMS-COOL OR SCARY? Cool<br /><br />15. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CAR? Cars & me don’t go hand in hand or should I say hand in wheel.<br /><br />16. FAVORITE DRINK? Hot water, Fresh fruit Juices, Masala Chai.<br /><br />17. FINISH THIS STATEMENT, "IF I HAD THE TIME I WOULD sleeeeeppppp to my heart’s content. (my wishes are very primitive)<br /><br />18. DO YOU EAT THE STEMS ON BROCCOLI? Slurrrrpppp, absolutely….<br /><br />19. IF YOU COULD DYE YOUR HAIR ANY COLOR, WHAT WOULD BE YOUR CHOICE?Earlier had streaked red, now I have natural silver streaks. I am guessing given a choice it would be copper.<br /><br />20. NAME ALL THE DIFFERENT CITIES/TOWNS YOU HAVE LIVED IN.Trichur, Cherthala, Aluva, Madras, Bombay, Delhi, Ernakulam, Bangalore, Pala, London, Amsterdam.<br /><br />21. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? Figure skating, gymnastics.<br /><br />22. ONE NICE THING ABOUT THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU.<br />Strictly tongue in cheek characterised by the smiley ;-P I guess looking at the smiley, the right expression would be tongue out of cheek. Has a knack of brightening up people’s days through his writing.<br /><br />23. WHAT'S UNDER YOUR BED? <a href="http://eljo-doodles.blogspot.com/2008/01/childhood-scares.html">Kokachi</a>, me thinks.<br /><br />24. WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE BORN AS YOURSELF AGAIN?Yes, but a less moody one.<br /><br />25. MORNING PERSON, OR NIGHT OWL? Morning person<br /><br />26. OVER EASY, OR SUNNY SIDE UP? Can I have an omelette, please???<br /><br />27. FAVORITE PLACE TO RELAX? Wherever my family is at that moment. High on the list is definitely Kerala.<br /><br />28. FAVORITE PIE? Hot Apple Strudel with warm Vanila Sauce<br /><br />29. FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR? Lychee & Ginger from Haigen Daz, Strawberry cheesecake from Ben & Jerry’s, Tender coconut & Seethaphal flavours from Naturals.<br /><br />30. OF ALL THE PEOPLE YOU TAGGED THIS TO, WHO'S MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND FIRST? No clue...<br /><br />And this tag goes to…some of the nice people who took the trouble to comment on my blog. The others were already tagged by sis and other bloggers :-(<br /><br /><a href="http://ipaintmyownreality.blogspot.com/">Anphy</a><br /><br /><a href="http://nmousey.blogspot.com/">Nmouse</a>eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-26127142295819920542008-03-31T09:08:00.000-07:002008-03-31T09:15:28.008-07:00Arrivals & DeparturesDon’t you just love arrivals at international terminals??? I for one am totally in love with them. The whole place is seeped in positive energy. Had to spend quite a lot of time last friday at arrivals as sis’s flight was severely delayed thanx to the wonderful operation of <a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/World/54_more_flights_cancelled_at_Heathrows_new_Terminal_5/articleshow/2913749.cms">T5</a>. If you just check their <a href="http://www.terminal5.ba.com/en/">website</a> they promise you a wonderful travel experience and if sis’s experience is anything to go by, I wouldn’t be travelling via T5 any soon.<br /><br />Anyways, I am digressing. So I was mentioning about my love for arrivals. I love waiting by the arrivals and looking at the expression of the people. If by definition the person who arrives is the “arriver”, you don’t need a load of brains to decipher that the person who is waiting is the “waiter” ;-)<br /><br />I love to observe the flock of waiters at the terminal waiting for their loved ones. The look of eager anticipation, balloons and flowers in their hands and sometimes whacky messages in huge cut-outs. I so love when little kids are also present. Usually they have the most honest expressions. Where as adults, we are more tied down by acceptable social behaviour in public; the kids are lucky that they are not bound by such silly norms. Its always heartening to see the little ones running to their grand parents / parents / cousins / or whomever they are waiting for with such unbridled enthusiasm.<br /><br />I got to see this most touching scene last Friday. A father was waiting alongside me for his family. The door opened and there came his wife and two little kids; a little girl of about 4 and a small boy of about 2. The way the kids ran up to their dad and jumped on him calling him <em>“Pappy”</em> I felt he was the richest man in the universe. Then came the turn of his wife and they looked deep into each other’s eyes, and they hugged and kissed. The kids had made some drawing for their dad on the flight and they were busy showing their pictures to their <em>Pappy</em> who was looking at them very appreciatively. I could sense that I was not the only one who was watching with this scene with the utmost interest. I turned around and saw many more people smiling wistfully looking at this cute family. I am sure that this scene will remain with me for a long time.<br /><br />All this positive energy really gets to me and poor hubz is left wondering how his ill-tempered shrew of a wife turns all marsh-mellowy once she lands at the airport. Conversely, I am terrible at departure terminal. Even if I am not feeling terribly sad, all the sobbing and nose-blowing gets to me and I am back to my usual ill-tempered self.<br /><br />I am partial about Arrivals specifically at the International terminal as the emotions there are multi-fold. Nowadays domestic air travel is so common that emotions are akin to boarding a bus.<br /> <br />And if you were wondering how I greeted the sis, we air-kissed. Showing emotions in public and US….. NO WAY!!!eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-87527537477170798032008-03-28T07:34:00.000-07:002008-03-28T07:39:47.454-07:00Impressions on DubaiWe were on a <em>“blink and you miss it”</em> trip to Kerala for Easter and had the opportunity to visit Dubai enroute for a day.<br /><br />Till some time back, the name “Dubai” conjured up visions of wealth, rich Sheiks, dates, palm trees and of course gold, camels and desert safaris. This perception changed a bit when I got to see the wonderful movie “<em>Arabikatha</em>” by Lal Jose. This movie was an eye-opener. Earlier in Malayalam movies anybody coming from the Gulf was shown as having pot loads of money and arriving in a taxi with atrocious goggles, a garish bold printed shirt with the first three buttons unbuttoned, some 2-3 gold chains around the neck, a thick gold bracelet (<em>ewwww</em>) and baggages arranged vertically on top of the taxi, Lal Jose showed a different Dubai; where people were suffering, where people were willing to do anything to survive and support families back home in Kerala. Actually being in Dubai, we felt we were in the land of <em>Cuba Mukundan</em>. (Protagonist of <em>Arabikatha</em>). Lal Jose has done a pretty spot on depiction of the life of mallus in Dubai.<br /><br />The one thing which hit me immediately on landing in Dubai was that it was an XXXL version of our own <em>Amchi Mumbai</em>. The amount of mallus just shocked me. Whereas here in the Netherlands, hubz and me get away with gossiping about passers-by in Malayalam, there we had to be on guard as every third person on the road was a Mallu. Added to the fact that our cabbie was a Mallu, Saravana Bhavan was playing mallu movie songs, the tamilian waiter in the said Bhavan spoke mallu; after a while I got the feeling that there were more Mallus in Dubai than in Kerala. <br /><br />Well, everything in Dubai has to be the tallest, the biggest, the largest… (Hmmmm, we get the picture, don’t we?) The amount of construction, which is happening there is shocking. The malls there are gigantic. Apparently there is this group of people called “mall-walkers” who walk around the mall for exercise!?!? Covering about one tenth of the “Mall of the Emirates” I can understand that you can burn some calories by just walking around the gargantuan shopping complex. <br /><br />Traffic jams are much worse than Bombay and Bangalore. Living conditions are even worser than Mumbai chawls. Our friend was considered leading a luxurious life as he had a single room all for himself inspite of the fact of shared kitchen and shared bathroom facilities. Apparently in a room like his, it is the usual norm for atleast 3 people to stay. Rents are exhorbitant and unless one has an extremely well paying job it is not worthwhile to stay in Dubai.<br /><br />I wonder what were the mallu people thinking in marrying off their daughters to some bloke in Dubai without even checking about the quality of life there. I guess the same question applies to people marrying off daughters to guys in US, UK and a host of other countries as well. Just because the guy is working in “foreign”, the guy is considered as a “good catch” !!!<br /><br />Its quite a strange paradox that while Dubai’s emergence as one of the world-class cities attributes quite a huge chunk of its growth to the toiling mallu populace, it is the same mallus who still act as a hindrance to Kerala’s growth. <br /><br />P.S. I am talking about the life of an average mallu here and not that of the super-rich.eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-49136412528658500452008-03-07T01:19:00.000-08:002008-03-07T01:22:18.707-08:00Specs Appeal!!!Yes, that’s right! Not a typo, not an oversight, I did write <em>Specs Appeal</em>. This is something, which I have by the truckloads.<br /><br />Now I see you people scratching your head and wondering what is this darn thing? *taking my time and enjoying my 2.5 seconds of fame and speculation* Ok, Ok before you guys get bored and run away, let me get straight into the explanation… It’s a long story…Mind it! Rascala ;-)<br /><br />As per Section 2 (d) of the Intangible Qualities Act, “Specs appeal is that extra quotient of unidentifiable matter which alters your appearance significantly with and without a pair of spectacles that an acquaintance takes 2 seconds longer to identify you”. <br /><br />I have been hearing about how different I look w / w out my spectacles quite often that I came with this term “<em>Specs Appeal</em>” to pacify the confused / startled acquaintances. <br /><br />Typical Scenario:<br /><br />Day 1: Me in spectacles greeting a newbie at office.<br />Eljo : Hi, so everything fine? Did you get accommodation? *and similar such pleasantries*<br />Newbie: Yes, fine. Settled quite well.<br /><br />Day 2: Me in contacts greeting oldbie *IT lifecyle is really rapid*<br />Eljo : Hello, so settled? *scratches head to ask questions not asked the previous day and settles on the lifesaving topic “weather”*<br />Oldbie : Huh? Have we met before?<br />Eljo : *thinking there it comes* We met yesterday.<br />Oldbie : Oh, its you! You look so different!<br />Eljo : Yeah, its <em>Specs Appeal</em>! Bye. *runs away before more questions are asked*<br /><br />Now all this looking different business started a loooonnnggg while ago.<br /><br />Cut to the Sepia tinged flashback: *background score: songs from <em>Maine Pyaar Kiya, Kilukkam, QSQT</em>*<br /><br />Spectacles became my shadow and companion ever since 8th Std. The first pair, which I got, was an Ugly Betty type and just like her I also got my braces the very same year. All you have to imagine is a gawky spotty teenager with thick soda glasses, braces on her teeth and a ponytail and that’s exactly how I looked in my initial teenage years. <br /><br />Braces don’t stay on forever but spectacles do stick on like a leech. So in a few years time the braces came off but the specs stayed on but they did metamorphosise into contact lenses by the time I turned 18.<br /><br />Now don’t imagine a makeover story of how the gawky & clumsy teenager turned into a babe and everybody was gasping the next time they saw her. If there were any gasps, they were only from mom on seeing sis & me dressed in jeans for yet another family function. This would be start of her standard rant which went like this <em>“Ho, ee kochungale kondu thottu, namade veettil pani edukkan varunna Kamakshi vare evare kalum menakanu poruthe pokunney!#$!”(</em>In <em>angrezi</em> all it means is “I am fed up with these girls, even our help Kamakshi goes out better dressed”) Thankfully I had sis for company and after lots of negotiations suitable outfits would be found to be worn to the countless functions.<br /><br />The funny thing is about looking different is the ensuing conversations with relatives. Now that we had been away for a long time from Kerala, most of our relatives had a couple of years old image of me with the braces and specs and then they take one look and go:<br /><br />Relatives: “<em>Ayyo, ithu Eljo aano??? Aalu aake mari poyallo, pandu engane irunnathayirunnu?”</em> (Is this Eljo??? You have cbanged a lot since the last time”)<br />Eljo: “<em>Enthu cheyyam aunty, vayasai varuvalle</em> ;-)” (What to do aunty? I am growing old)<br /><br />I do realize that you don’t need to change drastically for the above- mentioned conversation. Every annual vacation to Kerala, sis & I were subjected to the very same conversation.<br /><br />Cut to present time: *background score: songs from <em>Taare Zameen Par, Bheema, Jodha Akbar</em>*<br /><br />Though I do have my contacts I prefer wearing my specs ever so often for the simple fact that I am L.A.Z.Y. and half the time I can’t be bothered about dressing up and looking presentable.<br /><br />So the next time, you see a woman running around in Netherlands in unwashed jeans, hair looking like a crow’s nest, an overflowing shoulder bag and spectacles / contacts, don’t forget to come & say Hi as in 99.9999% probability its bound to be me.<br /><br />I have realized over time that having Specs Appeal is actually a blessing in disguise. I look like a homely “<em>pavam</em>” girl when I have my glasses on. So if I have to get something done all I have to do is wear my glasses and act naïve. Other benefits include hiding from the manager to whom I had promised some requirement documents. All I have to do is just do a quick flashback and check whether I worn my glasses the previous time I met him. If Yes, wear contacts, look different. If No, wear spectacles, look different. Zo Zimble, No??? ;-)eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-334924274215180682008-02-25T09:34:00.000-08:002008-02-25T09:38:18.234-08:00Happy Birthday Kaattu Maakan!!!Dear Hubz,<br /><br />You know we are not one of those picture postcard type couples; the types who are the epitome of maturity, wisdom and of course love. Coz we are as different as they come. If one said “ka” the other would automatically say ‘Ma”; If one likes “gulab jamun” the other likes “<em>roshogolla</em>”; if one is a pure non-vegetarian the other is a brahmin in disguise; if one is a <em>pala achayan</em> the other is a metro-mallu. Though the success rates of our <a href="http://eljo-doodles.blogspot.com/2007/11/shared-hobbies.html">shared hobbies </a>keep fluctuating like a patient’s heartbeat in ER, still we manage to co-exist and have not yet clobbered each other though at times we have come very close to it.<br /><br />You know that I am somebody who finds it very difficult to display emotions in public whereas you are so open about the way you feel. Coming from a family where display of emotions physically is a rarity, it was a culture shock initially to come into your family and start kissing everybody. Now that I have got the hang of kissing, could you plzzz invite those yummilicious cousins of yours? *wink, wink*<br /><br />It is becoming increasing difficult to tone down our terms of endearment or should I say “name-calling” especially since we have so many guests at home. People visiting us would be forgiven if they mistook our place for a zoo what with all the names being used…<br /><br />Why don’t we stick together till our ‘soulmates’ (in your case a certain Milano and in my case Pierce Brosnan or George Clooney whoever comes first) comes a calling?<br /><br />I can’t think of irritating or fighting or nagging anybody else from whom I derive such great pleasure …<br /><br />And Oops! Before I forget…. Here’s wishing you a very very happy birthday…<br /><br />Loads of Louwe,<br />Eljoeljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-2555867497509624552008-02-22T08:17:00.000-08:002008-02-22T08:19:43.787-08:00Its official!!!Its official my dear friends, romans and <em>kandry fellas</em> that I am a certified baking disaster…:-( Now disaster is a very mild word… more like a catastrophe …if there is some other word, which can encompass the enormity, plzzz let me know. Will put in that word…) *sigh*<br /><br />The whole problem started the day I got hooked onto food blogs. All these online food goddesses & food gods were posting drool worthy pics and were giving me the impression that baking was a dream. I do partially agree to their statement except that baking is turning into a nightmare for me :-(<br /><br />Now to list my case:<br /><br />i) First effort was a simple microwave chocolate cake, which came out well… surprisingly… Now it looked like a cake, also if you were blindfolded and asked to bite it, you would have bravely guessed “Cake???” Now your guess could have been at the risk of your life, so you had no choice but to guess “Cake???” (mmm, we get the picture, don’t we???)<br /><br />ii) Fortified by the first result I went about making an eggless cake for one of my veggie friends on her birthday. The end result was a rubbery concoction, which could only be eaten with the same pleasure as that of eating <em>chavaprasham</em> or drinking <em>kashayam</em>. Now my friend is an expert in PR and to give the gal credit she bravely took one bite of my creation and had even the grace to go <em>“mmmm”</em> when her mouth was seriously begging to form an <em>“ewwww”.</em> Surprisingly she is still friends with me after that fiasco though very clearly there has been no more requests for cake…<br /><br />iii) Then the “volcano” cake… this one was designed by soul sistah and yours truly. Before people get wind of this superlative dessert (?) we should run and patent it. The end result was an erupting lava spewing cake (?!?).<br /><br />iv) Now seeing my success rates with the cakes, I decided to bring my goals a li’l lower and set my sights on making “puffs” or the <em>“nadan pups”</em> (not to be confused with kutty doggies). As per the instructions all I had to do was cut pastry sheets, insert filling, gently cover it and place in the oven for abt 12 min at a certain temperature. The end result should have been golden brown puffs waiting to be bitten but what I got was a broken plate and soggy pastry sheets. With utmost haste and horror, the resulting mess graced the garbage bin within nanoseconds and a suitable dish was made to appease hubz to get him into the mood to listen to my disaster…<br /><br />The ever insightful and long suffering hubz has discovered that it is infact cost effective and remarkably tension free & not to mention hassle free if we simply bought these little devils from our local baker. I can imagine his viewpoint. He feels like having the sinful (but so bad for waistline) Choco-Dutch Truffle.<br /><br />Scenario I: Have a smile on his lips, walk barely 5 feet and greet our sweet assistant at the bakery or bakkerij as they say here. Order two truffles and walk home and bite into them. (Hah! Life is simple)<br /><br />Secnario II: Now, if I were to make the little devils at home.<br /><br />Eljo: Hubz, I am making Choco-Dutch truffles today…<br />Hubz : *in shock, thinks of ways to dampen my enthusiasm* I don’t like those darn things.<br /><br />Eljo: *rubbing her hands in glee* Whoever asked you in the first place???<br />Hubz: *realizing tactic is not working tries another strategy* You realise what you are getting into???? I will not clean up the resulting mess.<br />Eljo: *conveniently goes into selective hearing mode*<br /><br />After about three quarters of an hour<br />Eljo: *panicking* err… HUBZZZZZZZZZZ… I think we have a <strong>SMALL</strong> problem…<br />Hubz: Not responding *read selective hearing mode ON*<br /><br /> Eljo: Plzzzz… I promise not to try baking again.<br />Hubz: *selective hearing mode OFF & wondering for the nth time when Eljo will concede defeat * rushes to help Poor Eljo(whose plates are broken but not yet her spirit)<br />Hubz:Is this the right time to say, “I told you so”???<br />ELJO: @&*&$*@#&$<br />Hubz: Yeah, I thought not…<br /><br />At present, I have a restraining order against my oven. Nowadays when Hubz catches me looking longingly at the oven, he tries distracting my attention. It looks eerily similar to handing lollipops to kutty babies so that they forget about the crystals and delicate jars they were planning to inspect.<br /><br />Lately I get the feeling akin to Godzilla when I enter my kitchen. I swear I can feel all my glass plates shivering and running to the end of the rack so that its not their turn to lay down their life in my quest for that sinful dark yummilicious chocolate cake.<br /><br />So, my dear sympathizers do put in a good word on my behalf to dear hubz so that he lets me near the oven again…<br /><br />To my defence, my point of contention is whats life without a little adventure … and some broken plates…and a royal mess to clean up… and *sniff* whats that burning smell??? Oops dearies, time to go… Ta da….eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-64454207927498555262008-02-15T07:00:00.000-08:002008-02-15T07:09:46.269-08:00She came, she saw, she fell…among other thingsIn a synopsis, that’s what our last weekend was. (For more details, you could take a peek <a href="http://annseries.blogspot.com/2008/02/going-dutch-on-vicious-cycle.html">here</a>). The weekend, which was eagerly awaited, ended in an anti-climax. Oops, before I forget the climax was of course the part where I called up emergency and they asked me how was I sure that I am dying right now???&@*$<br /><br />Sis was here last weekend. We had major plans of taking her out owing to unusually good weather but all we did was sit at home and peek out of the window… *sigh*<br /><br />Things started going downhill on Thursday evening itself. I started feeling unwell but then decided to ignore hoping I will feel better by the next day. Friday dawned, my health no better. But still went about as usual.<br /><br />Friday evening 6.45 pm:<br />Airport, pick up sis.<br /><br />Friday evening 8.30 pm:<br />Finish dinner, me feeling positively unwell. Hubby & sis decide to check out Chinese New Year celebrations in central part of city. They are cycling their way there.<br /><br />Friday night 10.30 pm: Mr. Murphy in full action.<br />I have no choice but to call emergency. Hubz and a limping Sis arrive due to her dare-devilry atop the cycle. I mentally prepared to call up emergency.<br /><br />Conversation ensued as follows:<br />Me: Hello, this is Eljo. I am ….<br />Emergency lady: What is your full name?<br /><br />Me: But I am feeling …<br />Emergency lady: Now your Date of Birth.<br /><br />ME: I am …<br />Emergency lady: Now your postcode.<br /><br />By now I am sure that she is not going to ask me why I am calling her in the first place.<br /><br />Emergency Lady: *very exasperatedly* now what is the problem?<br />ME: *thinking of saying “Fire on the mountain, run, run run” but realizing that I have called emergency and not fire department start with the problems*<br /><br />Emergency Lady: *very disinterestedly* Oh… but can’t this wait till Monday??<br />ME: I don’t think I will be alive till then… (They don’t call me drama- queen for nothing!!!)<br /><br />Emergency Lady: *Convinced by my dialogue delivery * Ok, come and meet the doctor tomorrow morning at 9.00 am…<br />ME: *relieved* OK, thanx<br />Emergency Lady: *Thad!!! plonked the phone down*<br /><br />In the meanwhile, hubby helping out limping sis with volini…<br /><br />Saturday, morning 5.30 am<br />Me feeling worse and am pretty sure that I am on my way to pearly gates very soon. I do a quick rewind and scan my past for any deed for which I will be sent Down Under. Skips aside all the nagging and fighting with hubby as acceptable way of life as that’s why it is called martial life (oops! Sorry…marital life) <br /><br />Saturday morning 5.45 am:<br />Again call Emergency and stuck with the same Emergency aunty. What are the odds of that??? Like I said before Murphy uncle was in full form…<br /><br />ME: *in a dramatic voice* I had called before…<br />Emergency Lady: What is your name?<br /><br />ME: you have all my details. Pls this is urgent.<br />Emergency Lady: Now your date of birth.<br /><br />ME: *how about 31 April? Seriously this lady was pushing her limits*<br />Manages to squeak out DOB and postcode details lest she assumed that I had changed houses in 5 hours time.<br /><br />Emergency Lady: Why did you wait so long?<br />ME: *What the ****? * You told me to wait till tomorrow morning….<br /><br />Anyways to cut a long story short, managed to see the Doc on Saturday morning. Found out that it was not as life threatening as was assumed by yours truly.<br /><br />Came back home and 2 injured sisters decided to penalize one miserable guy to do as per their bidding. Poor guy got so fed up that he decided it was better for him to sprain his ankle and sit at home rather than running around satisfying demands of two high-maintenance drama queens ;-)<br /><br /><br />Pssst: If you find one tall guy limping around saying he got a sprain while playing basketball, don’t believe him!!! ;-)eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-87267256132751451582008-01-30T05:55:00.000-08:002008-01-30T06:13:00.124-08:00Of Daggers & Spears, Of Knives & Forks…Before you reach the conclusion that I am planning an ambush let me clear up the confusion and wave the white flag of peace. Well, the heading is just an indication of my <em>erstwhile </em>(or should I say continuing) fear of cutlery…<br /><br />For Neanderthal people like me who only had to use one’s hands for the purpose of feeding oneself, cutlery and allied things used to be looked at with sole distrust and a bit of fear, which would never be admitted in public. It also helped that Indian food per se, didn’t need the use of things like knives, forks and dessertspoons. All you need is utmost a spoon and your trustworthy hands and you could relish your food to the maximum. <br /><br />Dad, the banker always used to stress the importance of learning to use cutlery which his tribal daughters would barely be listening while stuffing their faces with “<em>palaharam</em>” all the while keeping an eagle eye on mom’s plate so the first claim could be made for the last “<em>pazham pori</em>” or whatever was remaining. The taste of something fought for tooth and nail and eaten or something stolen & eaten is exponentially higher than eating amidst plenty. Dad used to tell us horror stories about some random banker who wanted to show off his table manners and ended up having to run behind his flying chicken fry after using the fork and knife. Even at Bankers club parties, the only “<em>birdie dance</em>” which we children partook was the flying birds out of our plates into our neighbour’s plates courtesy our supreme cutlery skills ;-)<br /><br />Then came the time of leaving home and starting a job. In our induction we did have a small presentation on table etiquettes but no one was paying the least attention as our batch of trainees were busy trying out all items in the buffet and giving a general feeling like we just landed from Somalia.<br /><br />In my earlier job I had to co-ordinate interviews for my organization on a few occasions. These interviews were held in 5 * hotels and as I was present the whole day there, I used to invariably lunch with the EVPs of my organization. Even though the co-ordination part was a breeze, I used to get butterflies in my stomach just thinking about having to lunch with the top-shots of my organization. I had visions of me ending up like Julia Roberts in “Pretty Woman” with the waiter catching the crab. My hands used to tremble while taking the menu and then my eyes used to busily scan and look for dishes, which would necessitate the use of hands. <br /><br />Eventhough I would have to loved to try the restaurant’s special ‘lasagne’ or “chicken steak” (afterall it was my company that was paying) very wisely with a heavy heart I would choose a burger or a pizza as that’s something I could very confidently tear apart with my bare hands. My admiration levels for my bosses went sky high when I saw the dexterity with which they could handle their cutlery. For me they were equivalent to Antonio Banderas in the “Mask of Zorro” and their use of cutlery was as good as the intricate sword fights. <br /><br />Coming into the world of IT, I have been a witness to lot of cutlery gaffes.<br />I have seen so many sights akin to that of a torture camp; examples being stabbing a cutlet, beheading an apple and don’t get me started on the main course! The lack of skill becomes pronounced especially when you end up having to attend hi-fi lunch meetings wherein you are expected to dazzle the client with your supreme business skills and the cutting edge technology, which your company professes to possess. Half the time you are busy saying the rosary at breakneck speed and hoping for a divine intervention so that your application functions as claimed and the other half you are trying to cover up the fact that your hands are shivering and hoping against hope the fork in your hands stop rattling and stays put.<br /><br />The one thing I have realized over time is that eating with hands is also an amazing skill. This conclusion was drawn after seeing some ‘phoren’ colleagues come home and trying to eat ‘desi khana’ with hands. Their method of eating was (i) drop food into mouth from a distance or (ii) take food by the fist and stuff the said fist into their mouth.<br /><br />Feels good that my dear colleagues are also getting a complex about not able to eat delicately with their hands ;-)<br /><br />Please, pls, plzzz tell me that I am not the only suffering from cutlerophobia…eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-78318291535368127842008-01-22T07:26:00.000-08:002008-01-22T07:30:21.519-08:00Hair raising Tales<strong>Statutory Warning: Any resemblance to any living persons are purely intentional ;-p<br /></strong><br />Scene 1:<br /><br />Cast: Guy, Gal and Guy’s uncle on visit<br />Time : Monday morning mad rush from home to office.<br /><br /><br />Gal : *busy running and getting things ready* <em>Onnu vegam irangunnundo</em>….(Get ready quick). We will surely miss the metro if you take this looooong for your make-up.<br /><br />Guy: * very painstakingly applying hair gel and creating tiny spikes on his already short hair * mmmmm… I am coming.<br /><br /><br />Scene 2:<br /><br />Guy : T uncle, we are leaving for office now. Will come early today.<br /><br />Guy’s uncle : * busy looking at Guy’s hair* <em>Nee engane aano pokkunney?</em> (Is this the way you are going?) Shouldn’t you be combing your hair before going to office ???<br /><br />Guy: *turning bright red in embarrassment and giving a <em>valicha chiri</em>* <em>Ayyo uncle, itha eppozhathey latest style</em> (Uncle, this is the latest fashion)<br /><br />Gal: *busy smothering her guffaws and trying to be the ideal <em>marumakal</em>* Ok uncle, we are leaving.<br /><br />Scene 3:<br /><br />*Guy mercilessly teased by Gal the rest of day *<br /><br /><br /><br /> **********eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-14888104672489404612008-01-15T05:27:00.000-08:002008-01-15T05:31:30.919-08:00Childhood ScaresJust the other day hubby was not going to sleep and I told him “ Go to sleep, <em>allengill kokachi varum</em>” {meaning kokachi (a dangerous beast) will come}. Both of us burst out laughing and instead of going to sleep ended up discussing about the ridiculously named scary creatures of our childhood.<br /><br />As far as my understanding of <em>kokachi</em>, he is this scary ghost, which resides in dark rooms and will take away naughty and disobedient children who refuse to sleep. Like the famous dialogue of Sholay “<em>So jaa beta, nahin toh Gabbar singh aa jayegaa</em>” my family (the maternal side) used to say “<em>vegam orangikko, allengill kokachi varum</em>”. When I checked with hubby, he said that he was familiar with such a similar creature but only the name was different. In his place, the name is “<em>makaan</em>”, “<em>Kaatu maakan</em>” (creature of the jungle). Ok, Ok, I got inspired by Bond, James Bond :-)<br /><br />The other thing which naughty children were threatened with was that they would get “<em>konthram pallu</em>”. Now my Appachan (grandfather) and uncles have a vivid imagination and they used to describe “<em>konthram pallu</em>” as this huge tooth, which used to grow in the nose. It would grow bigger and bigger and then come out of the nose making the face hideous. The innocent children that we were, we used to touch our nose and check whether “<em>konthram pallu</em>” was growing after we did something particularly naughty.<br /><br />I should say my uncles had such a gala time, terrorizing us poor nieces and nephew that we are planning to sue them for mental harassment. The next on the list of their cruelty is the story of the plant growing inside your stomach if you accidentally ended up swallowing seeds of fruits. Evenings were the time when the entire family used to gather for tea and palaharam (snacks). When one of the overzealous aunts used to feed fruits to the children, Appachan and uncles were waiting to pounce on the poor child who would invariably swallow a seed. Then would start stories of how the seed would become a sapling in the tummy and then grow into a tree that has branches, which would grow out of your mouth and ears. Stories would go on in full swing ignoring warning looks of the aunts and Ammachi.<br /><br />We, as kids, used to love looking at the old wedding albums of relatives. It was quite hilarious to look at the yesteryear fashions like bell-bottoms and big moustaches. When we were looking at the album of any of our little cousin’s parents wedding, our uncles were ready to rag the poor child. They would start by asking seemingly innocuous questions like who is the bride and the kid would say ‘amma’ and then move for the kill. After turning a couple of pages, uncles would innocently ask the kid, where he was on his parents wedding. They would further say that his parents don’t love him enough and that’s why he wasn’t called for the wedding. Now our 3 yr old is in doubt and off he runs to the kitchen to find his mom to ask certain tough questions. The poor mother would end up hemming and hawing and give some pacifying answer like the kid was in her stomach and so on….<br /><br />It brings a smile to my face when I end up reminiscing about the childhood days and I should say that we have had our revenge on our uncles as we used the same tactics on their kids and scared the hell out of them. It was particularly nice to see them squirming at their tiny tot’s question of where was I at your wedding… <em>muahahaha…*evil laughter*<br /></em><br />I am sure that all of us were routinely scared by <em>“yakshi”, “pretam”, “rakshasi”</em> and a host of other ghostly things. Do you have any names or incidents, which on remembering now sounds ridiculous?eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-34238355448350210622008-01-07T06:22:00.000-08:002008-01-07T06:27:21.724-08:00Sister ActCame back yesterday after dropping sis at the airport and the house was eerily quiet. She was here for her semester break and it was fun to go back to a non-empty house when she was here. This time around, sis & me have been tickled pink by hubby’s & my colleagues being stumped by our resemblance.<br /><br />Sis & me look very similar. Infact, the truth is she looks like me. Ha! I can say that with confidence, as I am the elder one. When acquaintances met sis and started chatting with her assuming it was me, it was fun to watch their expressions on later being told that it was sis and not me. Infact one colleague went up to sis and told her it was amazing that I had lost quite a bit of weight (Ahem, warning bells about my increasing weight, which for the time being I am refusing to hear.)<br /><br />All this takes me back to the time, when we didn’t want to be dead caught wearing anything remotely identical. Rather we despised being told that we resemble a lot. Being the eldest grandchildren in both dad’s & mom’s side, we were invariably the flower-girls for most of the uncles’ and aunts’ weddings. The aunts on their wedding day lived in mortal fear that their bridal veil would be dragged down by us in the midst of a tug of war for the larger portion of the veil ;-)<br /><br />Mum adding to our consternation had this habit of dressing us in identical frocks. This went on till the time we refused to get out of the house if we were dressed in anything remotely similar. The 4 years age difference between us, which looked so insurmountable back then now looks very trivial. For a long time for me, she was my baby sister who was busy snitching on me or was busy snooping around my personal diaries or plainly making my life miserable by wanting to ape whatever I was doing. The bond between us actually got stronger only when I left home on my first job. That was the time that we actually started speaking with each rather than the usual petty fighting. You know it always used to surprise me that we would be watching TV or looking at somebody and would come up with the same comment at the same time. Talk about Telepathy!!!<br /><br />Now that hubby has also joined the gang it is great fun that we have this amazing wavelength where only one has to start a sentence and other would finish it. Most of the time, they are ganging up on me and deriving sadistic pleasure in pulling my legs.<br /><br />Well Min, loved having you here. I feel really touched that you feel close enough to your chettan & me to count us in your list of close friends. I am closing this post by asking you the question, which Tina (hubby’s niece) asked you…. Entha elayammede pole irikkuney??? (Why do you resemble my aunt so much???)<br /><br />p.s. Soul sistah : you better keep your side of the bargain now that I have written an entire post on you... ;-peljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-73474351574809588702007-12-20T07:30:00.000-08:002007-12-20T07:35:02.659-08:00Why???mmmm…it’s that time of the year when I am left reminiscing about how things went in the year gone by. After a lot of thought I am left with these 10 questions, which are haunting me time and again. Hopefully next year I can take off a couple of them from my list. <br /><br /><br />i) Why is it that I am capable of giving perfectly sound advice when it comes to other people and not able to think rationally when it comes to me???<br /><br />ii) Why is it that I come out as a mature and level headed person (supposedly) to third parties whereas I am so pig headed and stubborn when it comes to close relationships???<br /><br />iii) Why is it that I am stuffing my face with chips, nuts and all oily things (which by the way tastes so yummy but so bad for my waist) when I come back from work when my eyes refuse to see the perfectly healthy options which are placed right beside it???<br /><br />iv) Why is it that I refuse to acknowledge all the important people in my life when all the while I am having imaginary conversations with them in my head???<br /><br />v) Why is it that I know I ought to get in touch with family and close friends whereas I always postpone it with the same reason “May be later”???<br /><br />vi) Why is it so difficult for me to get out of home on weekends when all through the week I make resolutions of walking around the nearby lake???<br /><br />vii) Why is it that I get so jealous when I look at a well-turned out female when I know that getting back to shape is not such an insurmountable task???<br /><br />viii) Why is it that only when I decide to go on a diet it is the festive season and thereby so much more temptations to resist???<br /><br />ix) Why is it that I don’t make the effort to talk to more people whereas I am constantly looking for escape routes when I meet someone familiar from work at non-work events???<br /><br />x) Why is it that I know so much about myself and still not able to change even an inch of the things where I am going wrong???eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-53161997840960301402007-12-16T07:15:00.000-08:002007-12-16T07:19:08.764-08:00You know you are growing older when…1) The new movie heroes are actually younger than you … But thank God for Mammootty, Mohan Lal and our dear Rajni uncle!!! for as long as they are present in the tinsel industry even Mom feels young.<br />2) The latest heroines are literally half your age and even worse half your weight. But thank God for Madhuri Dixit. She knows the moves even at 40 and that too after 2 kids.<br />3) Li’l cousins who were just born yesterday handle computers, ipods and all possible electronics with the dexterity of a PRO where I am left fumbling and flustered. But thank God for the cousins’ moms. They make me feel like I am part of the “YO” generation.<br />4) Li’l cousins who were in frocks and shorts till yesterday suddenly metamorphises into young women who would put Ekta Kapoor’s leading ladies to shame – what with the jintak salwar kameez and matching accessories and Gosh!!! Is that “A kutty” in a shiffon sari??#$#% Thank God for family who has given up on me and let me stay in my trademark signature style – unwashed jeans and uncombed hair ;-p<br />5) You switch on MTV and not even a single song seems remotely familiar to you. But thank God for Google, where you are sure to find the long lost songs of youth and the first strands of the song is just enough to make you feel 16.eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-23404721251189016802007-12-14T08:57:00.000-08:002007-12-14T09:14:46.267-08:00My First Tag!!!Here comes my first tag in the blogworld. My <a href="http://wetspark.blogspot.com/">new friend </a>in the blogsphere has tagged me and here I am doing the honours… Trumpets plzzzzz<br /><br /><em>5 unique things found in my room:</em><br />Now since we live in an apartment I have twisted the room bit to apartment. So here comes the “5 unique things found in my apartment”.<br /><br />The most unique thing in my house is undoubtedly hubby. <a href="http://annseries.blogspot.com/">Sis</a> and all the people who know him will guarantee that he is one in a trillion.<br /><br />Him apart, here is the list of unique things:<br /><br />i) A miniature music box, which plays the tune of “Raindrops keep falling on my head.”<br /><br />ii. A <a href="http://www.guidetoturkey.com/aboutturkey/info_tips/nazar.asp">Turkish eye </a>protecting our house courtesy our Turkish landlords.<br /><br />iii. Collection of hats in various sizes and shapes from different countries courtesy hubby’s fascination for the same.<br /><br />iv. A candle holder in the shape of Buddha courtesy a friend who is deeply spiritual.<br /><br />v. A tiny nativity scene in glass from Venice. The beauty is magnified by the frailty and the smallness of the piece.<br /><br /><em>5 unique things found in my bag:<br /></em>A word of advice to Dear Mathew. Never ever E.V.E.R. question the contents of a girls bag. Girls normally have the world in their bag. Since I have a bag cum wallet cum garbage bin, I would take up one of the questions.<br /><br />i. Visiting cards – now the question is what is so unique about them??? Well, they are my old visiting cards from my ex-organisation. Just a reminder of the old times.<br /><br />ii. A picture of an elephant drawn by a dear friend 5 years back. Yes, I am a hoarder of old things and also very sentimental (yup right, more mental than senti).<br /><br />iii. A diary of phone numbers and essential contact information. This is something, which I have with me since the last 15 years. (Now I can see the raised eyebrows and more people agreeing on the mental part ;-) )<br /><br />iv. A picture made by my kutti cousin. When she presented the drawing to me, I oohed and aahed at it for some time and thanked her for the pic of goldfish in the pond. Its only when she corrected me I understood that she had drawn a parrot in the cage ;-)<br /><br />v. An assortment of chapsticks :- plain, flavoured, glitter, etc. After all you are peeking into the contents of a girl’s bag…what else did you expect? Now Mathew, this is G.I.R.L.Y… not a tube of Vaseline ;-Peljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-26023510672038040302007-12-13T07:53:00.000-08:002007-12-13T07:57:17.451-08:00Are we growing antisocial as we grow older?This is a question, which I have been asking myself frequently. It is not as if I have been a very social person all my life. Till some time back (ok, make it a few years back) it was very easy for me to smile and do a “Hi, how are you? ” and talk about weather, global warming and other such social niceties. But it has always been very difficult for me to let somebody become really close to me. I have now reached a point wherein I don’t want to go to large gatherings consisting of mostly unknown people.<br /><br />I heaved a sigh of relief when my close friend also complained about the same thing. Atleast I have the satisfaction of knowing that I am not the only one having this problem. I guess the basic reason is that as we grow older we become more averse to change. We also become more confident about ourselves and we are at a point where we don’t bother whether are popular or not. Also it becomes very difficult to find people with the same wavelength. Earlier it was easy for me to relate to people even if there was a single common thread between us. But, now I am finding that it is not enough. On top of this I see a spate of networking sites opening up left, right and centre and I am left wondering whether is it just me who is feeling very antisocial?<br /><br />Orkut, Facebook, Yaari, Dushmani, what nots… these kind of sites are just multiplying exponentially. Though yours truly is present in one such site (didn’t understand the logic to join multiple sites and meet the exact same people in all the sites), I have just made 2 new friends whom I didn’t know before. One thing I see commonly as an introduction is “I am here only to keep in touch with my old friends. If you don’t know me personally, don’t add me as your friend.” Now I confess I too have something on very similar lines on my profile page. To my defense, I am fed up with people having profiles like “Luv me plzzzzz” and “Yours foreverrrrr” begging me for frandsheeps. Now I have very clearly mentioned in “Vendakka aksharam” (Bold & Big letters) that I am married and have also listed out my sterling virtues (pessimistic and antisocial being some of them) but these requests still keep coming. Though I would have to admit it does give my ego quite a kick that Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt had come requesting "friendsheeps" and I turned them down, how I wish they were the real ones and not the “desi” clones.<br /><br />Now the networking sites do resemble Venice during its carnival time. How else do you explain the multitude of Hrithik Roshans, Deepika Padukones and Aishwarya Rais in my friends list? On the last count I am friends with atleast 3 Deepikas, 2 Lindsays and 4Hrithiks. Now this is a very dynamic situation as “Deepika” can suddenly morph into “Kate Winslet” depending on the “friend’s” immediate frame of mind. What is it about the Internet that makes people try on different masks? Also what is it about the Internet that makes people do things that they will never dream of doing in real life. I know of adolescents who would break into a sweat if a beautiful girl walked past by and the same boys don’t think twice before sending friendship requests to some girl who happens to be a friend of neuighbour’s daughter’s classmate’s relative. Whew!!! All these are rhetorical questions and yes, everyone knows the answers to these questions as well. One word, anonymity.<br /><br />While I am being over the hill and rejecting all the “louveee” coming my way, I am extremely dazed that my “kutti” cousins some of them all of 10 years are chatting away to glory to totally unknown people whose profile pics makes me think that they have just got out of jail. What is it with today’s world? On one side there are people like me who neither have the drive nor initiative to make new friends and on the other side people who take intense pleasure in sending friendship requests to just anybody and everybody in the site. Where do you draw the line? I sincerely hope and pray that my “kutti” cousins know where to draw the line.<br /><br />Oops, instead of discussing on people becoming anti-social, this post has turned into a tirade against networking sites. Somehow my views seem very negative when it’s put down in black and white. Networking sites also have its positives. I should admit that I have met some of my long lost school friends thanks to such sites. More so it helps people specifically like me who ended up studying all over India.eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-78707533775459194902007-12-07T07:05:00.000-08:002007-12-07T07:06:38.891-08:00Fit as a fiddleNow don’t get me wrong… The title is no reference to my current physical condition. It is one of my fervent dreams to achieve this condition for the past 3 years and still counting….<br />While I would like to believe that I am pleasantly plump, my hubby and family have very cruelly demystified my belief by using the darn 3-letter word F.A.T. So proactively *that is after some 6 months of dilly-dallying* I joined my office gym.<br /><br />I had to take a fitness test before I got to use the fitness facilities. So after successfully scoring single digit points out of a total score of 100 which convinced my instructor that this girl is in urgent need of the facility she let me join. Since some of my colleagues use the gym in the evenings, I very cleverly went for the afternoon slot.<br /><br />Now, the first day at the changing room, I almost died of shock. I went in and I was faced with women of all sizes and shapes very nonchalantly changing into their gym clothes. (Thankfully they have separate changing rooms for men and women) I made a dash for the shower cabinet, locked it and got into my gym clothes in record speed and ran out. Next came the onerous task to actually start working out. When I gingerly kept my right foot (yes, I am very traditional) into the hallowed territory dreaming open eyed about the slim trim new improved version of me, again I almost died a sudden death, this time due to acute embarrassment. I was the ONLY one wearing ammachi* types tracks (that too in bright red colour) and a matronly T-shirt. Wait a minute, I take it back, even my ammachi won’t be caught dead wearing those tracks while the others were attired in teeny-weeny figure hugging biking shorts and sleeveless Tees. I tell you, these sights were already dousing my enthusiasm and doing nothing for my already plummeting morale, but still I lingered on in the vision of my improved self, which I would attain in a few weeks time. (Did I tell you that I am optimistic???)<br /><br />My instructor then got around to showing me the functionality of the cross trainers, treadmill, rowing machine and what nots… Since the treadmill was something I felt comfortable, heaved myself up and got things going. I had visions of starting to run like P.T.Usha while the least I could manage was perform the mini earthquake sequence like Shilpa Shirodkar* in some Bollywood dance number. <br /><br />Now I am all for people who can run effortlessly on the treadmill. I can just salivate looking at their stamina and I get the nice feeling that I am the one who is losing all the calories when they do all the hard work. After the Shirodkar episode, I have been avoiding the treadmill like plague. Now my latest friend is the cross trainer. So while I work out the dynamics of the “push- stamp” cross trainer routine while still ogling at the treadmill dudes, it is time for the ab exercises.<br /><br />Now this is the most demoralizing exercise of the lot where time and again I am made to realize that colleagues double my age have triple my flexibility. As I grit my teeth and stretch, I constantly think that there must be seriously wrong with me to willingly submit myself through the sheer torture of stretching my TTs*. This is the time when the mirage of the slim trim new improved version of me becomes really very hazy. I have three quarters of the mind to chuck it all and head to the café for that sinful chocolate brownie. <br /><br />All the above forms of torture are still bearable but what I find really horrendous is when some known colleague comes to gym in the afternoon slot. I get a stomach crunching feeling of being underdressed when my colleagues catch me in the gym. You can tackle them in formal wear with confidence with strategically placed scarfs and shawls which hide the bulge but when they see you in your red ammachi tracks, you get the sensation very akin to when you are caught stealing. (Not that I have much expertise in stealing) Anyways all you can do is to give a “valicha chiri”* and continue sporting.<br /><br />All these forms of torture have done absolutely nothing to my physique. In fact my weighing scale will tell you in confidence that I have gained a couple more kilos, which you will never hear from moiself. Colleagues have come and gone and in the meanwhile lost 10 kilos whereas all I have done is come and gone.<br /><br />Seriously you won’t think that it is due to the fact, that I have been having a lot more chocolate brownies, muffins, cookies, tarts, and pastries now that I have started gymming. In fact, the sole reason that I am having all these is to reward my body for the torture I am putting it through with the strenuous workouts and ab crunches. Anyways, tomorrow is an other day and I still have visions of the slim trim new improved version of me. (Well, I did say before that I am optimistic, didn’t I ???)<br /><br /><br />* Ammachi - grandmother<br />* Shilpa Shirodkar – A former Bollywood heroine who was very generously endowed. Usual romantic Bollywood dance numbers became hilarious when she was shown trampling some poor Switzerland hill with her slow motion run.<br />* Valicha chiri – a watered smile which is more of a grimace rather than a smile<br />*TTs – I can’t be telling you everything. Go figure it yourself ;-peljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-13692238679161224032007-11-29T02:15:00.000-08:002007-11-29T02:16:11.302-08:00Shared Hobbies!Lately I have been reading a lot of relationship ‘gyan’ courtesy the e-papers. Every paper worth its salt, pepper and turmeric is devoting a lot of screen space on guiding us poor mortals on better relationships. Must be the growing divorce rate is a cause of concern to these well-intentioned papers. The surprising fact is that they are only guiding us on bettering our relationships with our better half’s and not with parents and siblings. (If there was ever a course on better relationship with siblings, I am sure that mom would have certainly signed up sis & me. Mom used to live in mortal fear that one of us was surely going to kill the other one. Very plainly put, there was no love lost between us, sisters. Now that we both have passed teenage with both of us surviving, I am sure mom has all the experience to author a book on “Relationship guidance for siblings.”)<br /><br />Coming back to the relationship gyan for spouses, the common point, which I saw in all the newspapers, is “Have some common hobbies / activities. Love and intimacy increases when you both share some of the activities.” Suggestions given were 1) Cook together 2) Go out together, 3) I stopped reading after that. As I was going through the suggestions, my heart was plunging towards the deepest depths of despair, as I couldn’t find a single activity which yours truly and hubby dear (here after addressed as HD) had initiated which ended happily and with more love. All our joint activities ended with one of us (mainly me) going off into a sulk.<br /><br />The main reason being much as we love each other we are as different as chalk and cheese. Please read further for illustrations:<br /><br />i) Cooking together drives me mad: After I got married and stepped into this territory called kitchen which I had rarely visited in the pre marriage days, HD came with this theory of sharing kitchen work. Now for a novice like me who was busy making sambhar slush and unchewable rice the last thing I wanted to hear was “This is not the right way to cook XYZ dish.” HD was getting on my nerves giving me unsolicited advice when I was desperately trying not to burn down the kitchen. So we came with first of our “shared activity”: “You cook, I clean” whereby yours truly did the onerous task of cooking something remotely palatable and HD did the post cleaning activity (I do make a royal mess of the kitchen). Also to be remembered during this “shared activity” is that the other half is not allowed entry into the kitchen.<br /><br />ii) Watching TV together makes me mad: We have very different tastes even in television watching. I am in this phase wherein I am totally into investigative thrillers and hospital drama, which shows cutting bodies as easy as cutting vegetables for the Veg.kurma. All this blood and gore is making HD puke whereas yours truly is totally glued on to her seat. (Did I hear anyone calling us women as delicate darlings???) HD is a total sports and news aficionado. His mode of TV watching is watch football match and tennis match simultaneously and between breaks move on to BBC and CNN and wait was it Boxing on the other channel? Now yours truly whose only known sporting activity in school was bird watching and gossiping cannot take this overdose of sports. So here comes our next “shared activity”: “You watch TV, I watch episodes of ‘Everybody Loves Raymond’ on the Internet.” So now there is lots of love after this ‘shared activity’ as HD has got his daily quota of sports and I have my daily quota of movies, gossips and songs courtesy the Internet.<br /><br />iii) Why would any sane person want to move his / her butt on a weekend???: HD tried to entice me into more “shared activities”. For somebody who doesn’t want to move out of the house unless it is on fire or for some essential grocery shopping so that the inmates don’t die of hunger, I don’t see the logic of going out on a weekend. I am perfectly happy to curl up on the cozy sofa and read to my heart’s content (I have to finish a book when I start whereas hubby reads one book a year) or watch TV or to just look out at the amazing scenery. HD doesn’t agree to my viewpoint, for he is somebody who can’t sit still. HD is one person who doesn’t go to the theatres to watch movies as he finds it an impossibility to sit still for 3 hours. I wonder how his poor teachers handled him in school. I have heard that most of his teachers took voluntary retirement. (pssst, don’t tell HD ;-) ) So here comes our next “shared activity”: “ You go out, I don’t budge an inch from the sofa.” I personally guarantee the success of this “shared activity” as by the time HD comes home dead tired from tennis, shuttle, squash, jam, butter, etc. I am looking forward to some company other than moiself and is willing to lent a patient ear to hubby’s exploits in the sports field. Must say HD feels gratified that he has a loving wife who listens to all his sports field stories without even blinking an eyelid even when he says he has thrashed all the others. (I am so good for HD’s pride.) <br /><br />iv) Shopping makes me go mad: I am somebody who HATES shopping. I have heard that there is a fridge, which senses that milk is over and will automatically send an order to the supermarket. Now, if anybody has already built this fridge, please get in touch with me as you have just found yourself a new customer. The place where I live, the people mistake the supermarket to be the church where people gather after the Sunday morning mass to bitch about others. Here people don’t go for mass but all of them land up in the supermarket with huge bags to exchange pleasantries. People if you really want to bitch about others, could you please move that freaking trolley from the middle of the vegetable section??? Shopping instead of a relaxing activity is a high Blood Pressure activity for me. Now, HD, the inquisitive soul that he is, has to look at every product in the store and every discount that is on offer whereas I am like a horse on a derby match solely looking at attaining my goal of provision shopping under 34.33 minutes flat and gallop triumphantly out of the shop. Now comes our next “shared activity”: “I shop for provisions, You shop for meat and anything else which catches your fancy.”<br /><br />v) Listening to music: This is an activity, which is guaranteed as a sure hit by the relationship tutors. I have to grudgingly concede this point to them. Now HD and me have very different tastes in music also as we do for a 1056 other things under the sun. Whereas I am more into the semi classical and melodious songs, HD is into the “dhinchak beats wala” songs. But we do share some common ground in the music of Bryan Adams, Ace of Base, Sting and lately Harris Jeyaraj. Yours truly has to listen to a song atleast 100 times if she has fallen for it. HD bore the brunt of it when he had to listen to the songs of “Vettaiyadu Vilayadu” for atleast 364 times and still counting. Now he has reached the conclusion that he loves these songs. Poor guy didn’t have a choice as these songs are irrevocably drilled into his brain as I have been listening to these songs non-stop every waking moment. So our next “shared activity” is “You listen to your music for 1 hour, I listen to my music the next one hour unless it is Harris Jeyaraj, Sting, Bryan Adams, etc., etc.”<br /><br />Seeing the success rates of our shared activities, we came to a conclusion that we didn’t want any more shared activities as we were sure that if we did anything more together we are surely heading towards Splitsville. We were standing at the tram station and discussing about this point in the midst of me pointing out beautiful girls to him and commenting on them when suddenly the bulb (ting! For sound effects) lit in my brain. Halleluah!!! We do have an actual “shared activity” and that is Ladies and Gentleman (a half second pause for better effect) is bird watching!!!<br /><br />Now I am somebody who appreciates beauty in any form and HD is after all a poor male whose head automatically turns if a PYT (pretty young thing, you moron) is anywhere in his 5 km vicinity. Both of us love looking at PYTs and discussing their best feature on display. It could be lovely green eyes, parrot beak nose or a toned butt for that matter. Both of us are great connoisseurs of beauty and tend to have interesting conversations during our daily train ride to office thanks to our “shared activity”. I am sure that, people who overhear our conversation will definitely mistake me for a L*****N but who cares, we are in the midst of our “shared hobby / activity” and enjoying it for a change ;-)eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-43395664860803282942007-11-29T02:13:00.000-08:002007-11-29T02:14:47.556-08:00Am back!!!Hello....<br /><br />am back and that too after a loooooong break....eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-38634562356449799442007-07-06T06:54:00.000-07:002007-07-06T06:55:14.248-07:00Terrible TwoAnd I thought terrible two was only for babies…<br /><br />Most of us would have heard of the term ‘Terrible Two’ in connection with babies. If you haven’t heard of this term, it is the phase wherein absolutely angelic babies start behaving like brats. You tell them something and they behave the opposite. It is the phase wherein babies are tying to establish their identities.<br /><br />I for one have found a strange coincidence of terrible two in marital life as well (personal experience). Like a newborn, marital life is also hunky dory in the first year. Everything is new and exciting with the first flush of love and adrenaline. Like first time parents patiently taking care of the newborn, new spouses are all understanding and self-sacrificing trying to be the paragon of virtues. But as time passes by, patience level also drops. As parents start disciplining the child, he realizes that things are not rosy as it was before. He does not like it and starts with his tantrums and whining. <br /><br />I guess the same goes for marriage as well. As spouses settle into marital life, things, which you could earlier easily shut your eyes to and say as wonderful quirkiness of your spouse, become major irritants. “Ohh, she’s so reserved. How cute!” becomes “Why the hell can’t she be more social? @#$%#@” and “He loves sports. That’s so cool!!!” becomes “Why the hell can’t he watch something other than sports on TV???%&”<br /><br />Like a child, spouses also start with their tantrums and whining. The major fear being that one’s identity should not be lost. Whereas the child fights to create his identity, the partners fight to retain their identity. In all these melee, people end up being hurt but also learn more about the other person, which you would have never found out during a candle light dinner.<br /><br />The good thing is that babies don’t remain two forever and so does marriage. Both grow up. So now starts the next phase where kids and spouses are confident of who they are. So the fights and skirmishes are reduced to a large extent with an occasional one here and there. Parents learn to enjoy the kids for who they are, of course, with disciplining them wherever necessary and spouses also reach a compromise and begin to enjoy the real persons whom they have gotten married to.<br /><br /> Life goes on hunky dory and terrible two is largely forgotten except to pull each other’s legs about the fights that took place and then comes the next big thing wherein terrible two seems nothing in comparison. You guessed it right. It is TEENAGE. By now spouses forget about themselves and their differences and concentrate on their teenaged kids so that they can grow up into confident adults.<br /><br />Will let you know if there is any similarity between teenage in children and in marriage when I cross that bridge. For now, let me get geared up for my next fight with hubby :-)eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-82404403693714553842007-07-02T03:52:00.000-07:002007-07-02T03:53:15.066-07:00Conversations with FamilyTo my dear li’l cousin sisters,<br /><br />How are you, my beautiful girls? I look at you and wonder how fast time has flown by. Wasn’t it just yesterday you were all fighting amongst yourselves wanting to be flower girls at S uncle’s wedding? All of you were on your best behaviour as your mothers had threatened you naughty girls that you wouldn’t get a chance to be flower girls if you threw tantrums.<br /><br />I still remember the look of awe and wonder in your faces when sis & me landed home from Bombay for the summer vacations. You all very timidly asked us “Malayalam samsarikumo?”(Do you speak Malayalam?) I know it was our devilish uncles’ who had brainwashed you little ones into thinking we are some pseudo mallus, but believe me when I say that we are true blue mallus.<br /><br />Being the eldest at home, there is too much of age difference between us. Dear T-kutty, you are old enough to be my daughter and whenever you call me “chechi” and show me one of your new discoveries, (like the time you discovered shampoo is for washing your hair) your words definitely tug at my heartstrings. Dear N, I still have the drawing you made of the parrot in the cage. I am very sorry I mistook it for a goldfish in the tank when you gave it to me.<br /><br />In this year, some of you are finishing your twelfth standard, one of you getting into twelfth and some getting into high school. Its an eventful year for all of you.<br /><br />For the ones getting into college, enjoy this new phase of your life. College life is one of the most enjoyable and beautiful phases of your life. Study hard and party harder. I am sure that a lot of boys are going to fall for you. Its OK to fall in love but don’t let that cloud your studies. Your focus should be to study well and be independent. And in the meanwhile if you have managed to find your life partner as well, what’s the harm? But if you are going to come home with poor grades and the reason being heartache or lack of concentration due to this good-looking boy, I will surely whack you.<br /><br />Dear gals, empower yourselves, as your family is not going to be around you for the rest of your life. There will be times when you have to take decisions for yourselves. There will be times when you will have to go to new places for study, work, etc. Its ok to feel scared but don’t let the fear overcome you.<br /><br />Believe in yourselves. Don’t feel disheartened when you hear some bad comments because you are all beautiful, intelligent, smart and confident girls. And don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.<br /><br />Loads of Luv,<br />Chechieljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7908146507952024988.post-76286950737270948032007-05-23T07:00:00.000-07:002007-05-23T07:02:01.708-07:00Mallu WeddingsI come home and there I see an envelope in cream and gold and I know for sure that one of our cousins is tying the knot. What is it with Malayalees and their fixation with gold? Gold is such an integral part to every Keralite that no ceremony is complete without the presence of the yellow metal. Hence it is a matter taken for granted that you would see an excess of it during the Malayalee weddings.<br /><br />When you are travellling by road in Kerala, every second hoarding you would see will be an advertisement for jewellery stores. Alappat, Alukkas, Kalyan are some of the names which I recall immediately, but these are just the big players in the jewellery market. There are several small players too. It’s hilarious to see paintings of male Malayalam film stars on the jewellery hoardings. Very often you would find Mammooty or Mohan Lal wearing a huge chain or an atrocious gold bracelet on huge hoardings smiling at you with the name K.R.Jewellers or something to that effect written right beneath it. <br /><br />Shopping for gold before the wedding is a major event. As lakhs of rupees is spent, the entire family goes for the shopping escapade. The girl is made to wear every chain and bangle and opinion of all and sundry are asked to see whether that particular piece is fit to be bought. Normally, the boy’s and the girl’s family shop together for the wedding rings and the “thali”. Mullamuttu mala (jasmine bud chain), Palakka mala (chain with green stones), Manga mala (Mango chain) are some of the traditional chains, which are sure to be found in every mallu bride’s trousseau. <br /><br />Irrespective of the religion, in any Mallu wedding, you would normally find the bride bathed in gold. She resembles a mannequin in the jewellery store. Very often she is found with her head bowed down. It’s not because she is trying to look demure and coy but due to the fact that her neck is weighed down by almost 30-40 sovereigns of gold. If she ever fell into the water, she would drown for sure. From head to toe, there is gold everywhere. It is not unusual for a bride to have dizzy spells during the weddings as she is covered in gold plus golden kancheevaram sari plus the incessant lighting of the videographer and added to it the thousands of people who are crowded in the wedding venue. <br /><br />There are lots of families who get special jewellery made for their daughter’s weddings so that they will have jewellery that no one else have seen before. Such is the craze for something different that people even travel to Delhi and Jaipur to get authentic kundan jewellery. These, then become a closely guarded open secret (which everybody knows) and is taken out on the day of the wedding so that none would copy the design. The bride’s jewellery is a matter of intense discussion and debate among the ladies at the wedding. From the design of all the items displayed on the bride, to the cost of each item to the place where the jewellery is bought is the major topic of conversation during the wedding feast.<br /><br />Fashions in gold are also subject to change. Earlier you would find the bride wearing 3 feet long chains whereas now you would find her wearing chockers. Now the preference is slowly but surely changing to diamonds. Nowadays thankfully, the focus is on simplicity and comfort of the bride rather than the ostentatious display of wealth. So it should not be shocking if you find the bride wearing a single diamond chain on her wedding day like I did for mine. But then I guess I may be one of the exceptions than the norm. However, it is very difficult to imagine an authentic mallu wedding sans the yellow metal.eljohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14263698839352339248noreply@blogger.com2