Musings from India: D-Day!

Its official now - Swami and Niru are man and wife! It's the first big occassion in the family after a very long time and it was a very memorable event for all of us.

Enjoy the snaps from the engagement, reception and the wedding!

Musings from India: Marriage rituals

Listening to elders in the family talk about customs and traditions associated with the pre-marriage rituals tends to blur the lines between the real and the unreal. While my rational part of my mind seeks to find the reasoning, the irrational part chooses to not to sift the lores from the logic.


Leading upto the the marriage, we had several pujas at home, starting with the Sumangali(a woman whose husband is alive, or was alive during her lifetime) puja. This puja is done in honor of the departed Sumangalis from our extended family. On this occassion, the mangalyam ("thaali"), which is to be tied around the bride's neck, is worshipped and blessings are sought to esnure that the new bride and groom have a long married life together. Friday was chosen as it is an auspicious day and our home was filled with floral decorations, delicious food and several relatives and guests.


On Saturday, we had the "Thaluvu" to seek the blessings from Lord Venkateshwara (Vishnu). We started the day early and had a "naamam" painted on our foreheads. As part of the custom, the males in the family need to seek alms (of rice) from the neighbors. This rice is then used to prepare 5 different rice dishes and offered to the Lord. We made tamarind rice, lemon rice, pongal, sweet pongal and curd rice.




Sunday was fun - we had 2 pujas that day. In the morning it was the Maariyaatha puja dedicated to Mariamma, the Goddess of well-being. She is the guardian against illnesses, particularly measles and chicken pox. During summer months when these diseases are most virulent, this Goddess is placated. Villages typically have large gatherings near temples where women make "koozhu" (a semi-solid dish made from boiled rice and ragi) and distribute them. Notice the right-most vessel containing the koozhu alongside with karamani kozhambhu, plantain, kootu, kozhukattai and keerai. Yummy!


Finally, we had the Muneeswara puja in the afternoon. If you drive by the villages, chances are you'd see a large statue of this God at the outskirts. He is a well-built, fearsome looking God with a large mustache and is often seen riding a horse. He is feared as much as He is revered. This nocturnally-active God is supposed to protect people from the things that they fear most, especially at night. Interestingly, unlike other Hindu Gods, people traditionally serve cigars, toddy (an alcoholic drink) and non-vegetarian food as part of the offerings! At our house, it was just the cigars :-) Some of the relatives who were gathered there claimed to have seen Him at nights. I was fascinated to listen to the several first-person accounts about sightings of him at night. It all seemed so unreal.


On a different note, I'm off to Chennai tomorrow morning for the wedding. We're so close to the D-Day. My brother is getting married ... I cannot believe that we've all grown up so quickly and ready to start our own families. The days that we went to school together, played cricket on the streets and fought over the silliest of things seem like yesterday! Time indeed flies ... or rather times fly.

Musings from India: 30 decibels more

Two days into my vacation, I see two different Indias. The dreamy one that I knew as a kid until I left for the US in 2002; the other is a "Wal-mart"-ized India that has burgeoned ever since. In spite of the contrast, the common theme is that everything is atleast 30 decibels more in India when compared to the US :-) Everything around me seems louder now - the traffic, crowds, stores and the crows! My eardrums have been trying hard to re-caliberate their acceptable threshold values.

On a different note, the retailing phenemenon has really taken off in India. Giant stores selling everything from cheap plastic goods to appliances, clothes to condiments, spices to cigarettes ... all under under one roof. It is sad to see this killing the shopping experience - the kind I thoroughly enjoyed during my childhood. A trip to the local grocer meant clutching my dad's hand and walking through the narrow lanes in the bazaar. The sights and sounds were so earthy. One could smell camphor, spices, jasmine, soaps and numerous other aromas drifting in cramped, grimy, dimly-lit one-roomed stores. Dad and mom would hold the grocery list while keeping an eye on the scales and carrying a conversation with the owner. Compare this with rows and rows of crowded shelves, automated weighing machines and the impersonal touch to every transaction!

Sigh, I guess I'm still stuck in microcosm of pre-2002 India. However, the redeeming part of the experience was that the personal touch wasn't completely lost. The sense of community, connectedness and being part of one big family has been one of the country's biggest charm! My local barber recognized me immediately even after all these years and we chatted about old times, family and careers. He still knows how I liked my hair styled. This was followed by a trip to my one-roomed house where we grew up. It brought back memories of my early childhood.



I met my cousin's kids after a very long time. They've grown up so quickly! We hit off really well.



More on the rituals and poojas in my next post ...

Musings from India: The arrival

YES! I've made it on time for the mango season yet again this year ... and it's two good crops in a row! Oh, I forgot all about Swami and Niru's marriage: it's happening on the 17th in Chennai.

The journey this time was comparatively uneventful: no missed connections, delays or missed bags. Mom was mighty pleased that the stars were looking good during this trip when the last one was such a nightmare.

The halt at Singapore was fun - the duty free shops are aplenty, but expensive. It is a very clean city! We had a cruise at the Singapore river where I had a chance to show off my spanking new D40 SLR.

Since I had requested my "welcome dish" well in advance, there were no surprises! Urundai (round) kozhambhu and Malgova mambazham (mango)! Strangely enough I cannot explain either of them to my friends (yes, even some Tamilian ones). Urundai kozhambhu is composed of lentil dumplings dipped in tangy, tamarind-laden sauce. It goes well with plain rice, salt and water (for an even heightened taste, try old rice leftovers). Malgova is a special variety of mangoes that comes from Salem, characterized by it's unique texture and larger than average seed. It was a trip down memory lane as Periamma served it on my hand, much like the days when numerous cousins would sit at the terrace of our family home and the elders would place balls of rice and curry on our palms!

After 4 hours of sleep, we woke up the next day to a pooja at home. It was fun to see so many people at home - kids, elders and family - all doing their thing. Needless to say, the food was good! Then there was a power nap, shopping for clothes, and muscling your way thro' Bangalore's traffic crawls.

Hmm .... I'm tired now, got to sleep. Another long day tomorrow filled with more shopping, guests and pooja. And more food. If I manage to eat at this rate, I will be rolling back to Seattle in in style ... much like the beloved "Urundai" ;)

Back to source ...

Classic Rumi ...

whatever happens
to the world around
show me your purpose
show me your source

even if the world
is Godless and chaos
show me your anchor
show me your love

if there is hunger
if there is famine
show me your harvest
show me your resource

if life is bitter
everywhere snakes everywhere poison
show me your garden
show me your meadow

if the sun and the moon fall
if darkness rules the world
show me your light
show me your flame

if i have no mouth
or tongue to utter
words of your secrets
show me your fountain

i'll keep silence
how can i express
your life when mine
still is untold

-- Rumi

It's been over 15 years since I last wrote a poem on my own. It took me 15 minutes to write this one in the morning. I had this on my mind for a very long time, it just need the pen to talk to the paper!

Someday, I'll write happier poems :-)


The Storm

"Why am I all alone?", cried the droplet in distress,
When the mighty river meanders far and wide,
Therein lie all my friends splashing and frolicking
While I am left to die

We spent so much time together,
Meeting new friends from stream and the lake,
Caressing the winds that swept our path,
And tugging the lonely boat in its wake

The days that we spent fighting,
Merry laughter, banter, and that naughty lie,
Yet when the time came for us to be together,
While I am left to die

"Why me?" asked the droplet,
Unable to comprehend,
Why must I live a life condemned
While the others have a friend?

Brooding at the heavens above,
It looked at the Gods with a sigh,
Praying for that faint ray of hope,
While I am left to die

The Maker gave a faint smile,
As He looked down at His child,
She was still broken and weeping,
The storm was raging ... the wind was howling wild.

The droplet was still musing
Of the days when they would lie,
Dreaming of their unfulfilled dreams,
While I am left to die

"You're never alone", said the Maker,
As the storm did subside,
The sun was out and the droplet went home.
"Sometimes you need to wait a while!"

-- Palani

In the driver's seat

I've become sort-of-queer these days. For over a month now, at 32F weather, I open the moonroof and glassed of my car and drive on the freeways. Day and night, sun and moon, to work and back. It's such a liberating feeling, with cool wind in my hair and a song in the background .... ah life's precious moments.

It's so much fun .... a song for the mood:

I'm singing in the rain
Just singing in the rain
What a glorious feelin'
I'm happy again
I'm laughing at clouds
So dark up above
The sun's in my heart
And I'm ready for love
Let the stormy clouds chase
Everyone from the place
Come on with the rain
I've a smile on my face
I walk down the lane
With a happy refrain
Just singin',Singin' in the rain
Dancin' in the rain

Photoshopped animals

Thanks to Digg! These pictures are just incredible: http://www.i-am-bored.com/bored_link.cfm?link_id=21785

Gives a whole new meaning to elephant seals :-)

Life's little choices

Looking back at your life so far, have you ever wondered about what prompted you to make those little choices in life? Your likes and dislikes, your favorite color, your favorite animal, your favorite dish? How does it feel a few years later? Do you still feel logic, reasoning and sound rationale was the biggest deciding factor? Hmmm ... Well think hard again!

I spend a bit of of time every now and then introspection (some would argue that its a little more than the national average, but I couldn't care less) about this. I've come to the conclusion that while the biggest decisions (career and job) were sort of (notice I didn't say completely) backed by rationale, most of my petty likes and dislikes evolved from nowhere! My brother is only a year older than me ... and as a result of peer pressure, rebelliousness, and more importantly, to appear cooler - we'd fight over almost everything. Mom and dad did everything within their powers to make sure we never fought - they'd even get the same book labels, lunch boxes, bags and dresses (I remember the times when we'd make faces if the others' dress cost even a wee bit more than your's while shopping at Chellarams, our family store in Majestic).

I thought whales were the kings of the ocean, he claimed sharks were better. I liked the buses and lorries made by Ashok Leyland, while he preferred the Tatas. We'd spend hours sitting atop the famous double-decker buses ... route number 131 and 134 ... jostling in our seats to see who'd count more buses from our favorite bus maker (I still believe Ashok Leyland is better because the double deckers themselves were made by them ;)). My brother thought bedsheets were cool, while I liked blankets. This was re-inforced so much that for many years I wouldn't sleep without my favorite black blanket (I hope amma has saved this for me). I still think he liked my dad more and I loved my mom a little bit more as a kid. The competiton spilled over to food too. He loved jehangiris ... and while I secretly might have liked them at some point, I decided to settle for its lesser cousin, the jalebis for good. He made up more stories with lion as the villain, while I tried to convince him that unlike the reckless tiger, a lion would never kill unless it was really hungry and wanted food. With movies stars (Kamal Vs. Rajini) and cricketers (Dravid Vs. Ganguly), our fights got only more violent and drawn out.

So how much do you think these choices affect you? My brother likes sharks even to this day, while I still think they're lean-and-mean compared to the gentle giants. I still prefer lions over tigers, blankets over bedsheets, jalebis over jehangiris, Leylands over Tatas, violet over black and Kamal over Rajini.

Deeper down, my life's little choices were fiercely driven by the desire to appear different from those around you. I think it's probably true for my brother as well and he still stands by his choices. He won't even consider crossing-over to my side on these matters!

As for Ganguly, he's still the Bengal tiger .... errr lion who's better than Dravid!

The Secret Is Out

W. H. Auden (1907-1973) writes delightful poetry for no rhyme or reason :-) Here's why I think he's a genius - the flow is fantastic!

The Secret Is Out

At last the secret is out, as it always must come in the end,
The delicious story is ripe to tell to the intimate friend;
Over the tea-cups and in the square the tongue has its desire;
Still waters run deep, my dear, there’s never smoke without fire.
Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghost on the links,
Behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks,
Under the look of fatigue, the attack of migraine and the sigh
There is always another story, there is more than meets the eye.
For the clear voice suddenly singing, high up on the cement wall,
The scent of the elder bushes, the sporting prints in the hall,
The croquet matches in summer, the handshake, the cough, the kiss,
There is always a wicked secret, a private reason for this.

Over the fence

Love is powerful!

I almost thought this article was an urban legend like so many incredible stories that float around in email forward chains. Sounds too good to be true ... just imagine the chances of this happening!

I checked up the story as much as I could and it appears to be true. This incident is now being made as a motion picture.

Life is indeed beautiful!

Watermelon man

Digg throws up some classic ones. This one is way too cool!

Don't say goodbye ...

Death is an untouchable. Death is scary. Look at how Rumi sees it. Beautiful. This one made my day.

when i die
when my coffin
is being taken out
you must never think
i am missing this world
don't shed any tears
don't lament or
feel sorry
i'm not falling
into a monster's abyss
when you see
my corpse is being carried
don't cry for my leaving
i'm not leaving
i'm arriving at eternal love
when you leave me
in the grave
don't say goodbye
remember a grave is
only a curtain
for the paradise behind
you'll only see me
descending into a grave
now watch me rise
how can there be an end
when the sun sets or
the moon goes down
it looks like the end
it seems like a sunset
but in reality it is a dawn
when the grave locks you up
that is when your soul is freed
have you ever seen
a seed fallen to earth
not rise with a new life
why should you doubt the rise
of a seed named human
have you ever seen
a bucket lowered into a well
coming back empty
why lament for a soul
when it can come back
like Joseph from the well
when for the last time
you close your mouth
your words and soul
will belong to the world of
no place no time

-- Rumi (Translation by Nader Khalili)

Tin man ...

Funny things happen when you leave for a vacation at Microsoft. Here's one of the best that I've seen to my office-mate. Classic work of art.

Moral of the story ...

When you decide you are OOF*,
Secure your office - make it tamper proof.
While you thought vacations helped make you fresh,
Wait till you see the tin man in the flesh!

*"Out of Office" in MS lingo.

Missing a Jag ...

Today is my lucky today! I spent 6 hours driving to the airport and back. I was in a jam for the most part. It was super-cold (-4 C) and I didn't wear any gloves. My feet were soaking wet and cold - thanks to my rebellious mind deciding to wear sandals at the very last minute, in the interest of time. OK, enough waiting - we'll get to the lucky part now ...

Somewhere on I-405 N, I decided to get past a few cars in the humungous traffic jam by taking the uncrowded outermost lane. Well I guess it was empty for a reason. As soon as I attempted to merge to the center lane, I could feel my car drifting uncontrollably perpendicular to the road. Braking didnt help - even though I kept pulsing it all the time. Somehow time seems to expand un-endingly in these moments and you literally see the whole world around you. You can imagine everything with so much clarity. In God's re-caliberated time base, I was drifting on a sheet of ice towards a pack of cars behind and to the left of me. There was a spanking new Jaguar on my trajectory. In those instants, I had enough time to worry about the impact, insurance, police and fiery tempers that were to follow.

I have no idea what caused this: the car unexpectedly responded and I was able to quickly swerve it back onto the lane just in time. Call it pulsing the brakes trick ... or sheer luck.

However, what stood out is how much your brain tends to work during times of crisis. How the expanse of time expands. How the sense of space of emphasised. How you are blessed with more resources to deal with distress. If only we had a frame of mind like this even in the absence of crisis, we could have more than the stipulated 24 hours in the day. Something to ponder over ... what is time and how does everyone realize time? Is this realization the same everytime?

So many lessons learnt. Indeed a lucky day!

Our marathon efforts and snowfall in Seattle!

It doesnt snow often in Seattle. In fact only once a year. The last time it happened, we took time off work and arranged for a snowball fight outside the office.

This year, it was even more fun! There was snow on the day of the Seattle marathon ... in fact it snowed pretty heavily. But this didnt deter our brave runners from Asha who rocked as usual! All the runners finished well and this was a fantastic effort from them in spite of the crabby weather!

Long day so far ... I really need to crash now. I've been out in the cold for a long time today. You can check out all the snaps here.

Bad days ....

How bad can your day get .... I lost every game I played today. Clinching defeat from the jaws of victory on most games. Quite crabby right now ....

New "Rumi"-nations

It's been a while since I blogged ... a very long while actually. I can't believe how much things have changed since the last post. I've completed a year at work, bought a new car, tried to run, been more involved with volunteering, dabbled in yoga/meditation, done two road trips, met some really interesting people .... yada yada yada.

One of the best things that have done is read some good poetry. I've always been fascinated by Middle-eastern philosophy ... "The Prophet" from Kahlil Gibran ranks among my favorites. Of late, however, I've been reading some delightful pearls of wisdom from Sufi mystics like Rumi and Hafeez. They're such a treat to read ... and powerfuk enough change your perspective on so many things around you. It really makes me wonder ... if the translated version is so powerful, can you imagine what the original version would sound? It might well be worth the effort to learn Farsi!

Here's a sample of some of these gems:

You ask the embryo why he, or she, stays cooped up
in the dark with eyes closed.
Listen to the answer.
There is no "other world."
I only know what I've experienced.
You must be hallucinating.

You suppose you are the trouble
But you are the cure
You suppose that you are the lock on the door
But you are the key that opens it
It's too bad that you want to be someone else
You don't see your own face, your own beauty
Yet, no face is more beautiful than yours.

God turns you from one feeling to another and teaches you by means ofopposites, so that you will have two wings to fly - not one.

Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.

In the early morning hour, just before dawn, lover and beloved wake and take a drink of water.
She asks, “Do you love me or yourself more?
Really, tell the absolute truth.”
He says, “There's nothing left of me. I’m like a ruby held up to the sunrise.
Is it still a stone, or a world made of redness?
It has no resistance to sunlight.”

Who am I?

I've always wondered who I really am? This path of self-discovery started quite late - when I was asked to fill out my religion, caste and sub-caste in my hostel application form (pretty weird but true). Until then it never occured to me that I was from a particular caste. When I filled "Hindu" in all the columns (I wasn't aware of my caste at that point), the clerk raised his eyebrows and mumbled something about the increasing number of youngsters who forget their roots and opt for love marriages.

I called mom the next day (since I had to submit the completed form) and she said I was a Chettiar - a Beri Chettiar. It is not to be confused with the Shettys, Chettys and the Shets. The word "Chettiar" somehow conjures images of a scheming, portly, balding man in a rice shop and counting cash under his desk. This view of mine was reinforced by Santhana Barathi, who played the part of Chettiar so well in "Mumbai Express".

I can't imagine me being called "Palani Chettiar" as is the case with many other castes. Somehow, it never sounded cool to me. So I decided to dig deep - it turns out that Chettiars are a very fascinating community - they were the pioneers of commerce and banking in South India. Apparently, Singapore became an active trading post due to them. These cool people migrated heavily in search of opportunities especially in South and South-East Asia (Burma, Malaya etc) builiding banks, Murugan temples and not to forget the incredible Chettinad cuisine. The story goes that Chettiars were Shiva-bhaktas and since Brahmins were forbidden to cross the seas (and Shiva temples had to have Brahmin priests), they set up Murugan temples, since he was a less demanding! This is very much visible with names like Palaniappan (Chidambaram, our FM), Meiyappan (AVM studios), Murugappan (TI and Parrys). The folklores associated with them are very interesting to read, especially the one on how the entire community was once nearly wiped out.

Coming back to my experiments with tracing my origins, most of the documented material relates to the more economically dominant Nattukottai Chettiars, who were reputed to own the palatial houses in the Coramandel area, but chose to work in the cities and ports (hence they were called Nagarathars) as merchants. I wanted to find more about us Beri Chettiars. It turns out that by the 13th century AD, the Nattukottai chettiars had flourished under the Chola kings and institutionalized mercantile trade and banking. During this time, migrant Telugu traders like the Komatis, Balijas and Beri Chettis came to to southern Coromandel. This interesting article on Frontline talks about Beri Chettiars who prospered a bit under the British era. Not surprisingly my paternal grandfather was with the Pondicherry customs clearing and my maternal grandfather was a self-made goldsmith.

So who am I - a migrant from Telugu heartland or a Tamilian? I have no clue, but I'm really curious to know (I should try to find people from the Nemam temple who profess to be Beri Chettairs). It should be a lot of fun to find out!

As a side note, I don't believe in the caste system and in my opinion, it is the root cause of many problems in modern India. It was a case of a division of labour scheme that went really, really wrong.

Krishna Jayanthi ...

This morning mom sent me an offline message wishing me for Janmashtami (I suspect she issued a warning so that I was atleast aware of it and stayed away from non-veg food). She missed me on such an auspicious occassion.

Her message flooded me with memories of Janmashtami (or Krishna Jayanthi as we knew it). It is truly a great festival and a harbinger of hope. It was my saviour from the tyranny of the prevailing holiday-less calendar. When this festival came, the floodgates were open. We'd soon have Ganesh Chaturthi, Navarathri, Diwali and Christmas (read no school and good food). Somehow the Gods above conspired to load the second half of the year with goodies, while the first part had a dry spell (I can only remember the Tamil New year and that too came during the beginning of the exam season).

Krishna Jayanthi is a foodies' delight - mom would spend weeks thinking about the menu and days making them. It had the best assortment of food - sigidai, different varieties of murukku, sev, sweet poori (Swami, are you reading this?), maida biscuit, "mixture", boondi (sweet and karam varieties), vadai, kasavathu, payasam, assorted chocolates, butter etc etc.

The worst part however, was the build-up to that day - mom would pester us for weeks and have us clean up the house, especially the attic (trust me when I say it was a very messy and grimy place). We had to clean all the doors and window frames while mom would wipe clean the photos of various Gods in the puja room and clean ALL the utensils we ever possessed (she had an enviable collection thanks to her affinity for anything stainless steel and numerous trips to Madras). My brother and I had to deal with the tough task of dividing the labor (we even had points to measure difficulty level of the task and argue about the merits of the metrics - I'll leave that topic for another blog).

A week before D-day, I'd often accompany mom to the flour mill (or "machine" as she called it) and wait in the long queue of people. She was very picky about how the rice had to be ground - especially when the same "machine" ground many cereals (she'd never put it after some person had just ground ragi or wheat since the quality would be compromised). She'd wait longer and even give up her turn so that someone else could grind rice before she did thereby ensuring that grain-flow-path was "pure" once again. She would dictate terms with the operator as to how fine it must be ground until the right texture was reached. I was allergic to all the dust (especially chilli powder) around and would wander off to watch more interesting things - fish mongers (I still remember Managalore Fish stall and Bombay Fish stall) selling assorted varieties of fish or the numerous mutton and chicken shops in that compound (I know mom was never too pleased when she had to be there, especially when she was making food for the Gods).

The next big thing was to control myself. Mom would usually start making goodies a day or two before and we were expressly forbidden to eat any of these things beforehand (She often told me as a kid that God would poke my eyes at night if I did evil things and since then I've been a little careful when it comes to defying Him). It was indeed very difficult to control since I was the official food-taster at home, a role that I relished :). God was indeed very demanding. I vividly remember the times when mom would make my lil' brother Gopi walk down the hall to imprint Baby Krishna's steps. The footprint marks were made from ground rice water.

On the fateful day, we'd wait and watch the streams of friends and neighbors drop by and pay their respects to the God. I'd be watching the food layout on the table even more carefully, mentally planning my moves when the signal would be given. Time was less, the competition was fierce and premium food was limited by our voracious appetite! Then finally, when they guests left, and after mom finished her prayers - the signal would be given! It was every man to himself. We'd eat like crazy and attack the best parts first. I've had many fist-fights with Swami since both of us had common favorites - most notably the sweet poori. Almost always they would be gone faster than we realized.

Now as I sit here typing this out, I realize that I can easily afford good food (there are a dozen restaraunts spread over a half-mile radius) - but the ambience and experience isn't there. Tomorrow I'll probably make some "sundal" and "Instant Mix" Gulab Jamun and recall those priceless moments!