Seasons of me

Raindrops falling
distant winds calling
stillness haunting
with an emptiness daunting

snowflakes melting
darkness fading
morning sun rising
with colors enticing

starlight blazing
lonely clouds appraising
adventure alluring
for promises assuring

twilight drifting
lightness lifting
heaviness shifting
an evening uplifting

darkness enveloping
glazed skies hoping
silence suggesting
a time of resting

raindrops falling.........


Beginning and ending
continuos unstopping
no breaking no pausing
receiving and sending

growing maturing
secrets uncovering
new paths discovering
meaning unearthing

concepts breaking
ideas shattering
a new kinda longing
a life transforming

silence celebrating
heart rejoicing
love surrounding
a peace everlasting

Ayurveda, life and lessons learnt!

It came prettyly masked in a vodka shot glass, and looked no less than an expensive wine. it cant be so bad...so I boldly took a long gulp, and suddenly I felt a horrid explosion on my senses, I could feel each cell of my body loudly revolting....my tastebuds wished they would die rather than suffer such inexplicable torture, and it wasnt long before I felt I would either pass out (I was already seeing stars) or puke out the everything (including the organs) that existed below my throat!

Life was going just fine, my long vacation in India had just begun, and then out of nowhere I suddenly loose a lot of money and my passport...added to that I had an ayurvedic treatment pending. Amidst all this confusion and a ton of paperwork to do (the worst thing that can happen on a vacation) three days ago, I was put between four walls, given a glassfull of the most distasteful ghee to quaff (part of my treatment).

Life was going just fine right...and then how come all of a sudden its nothing but chaos. And why did I ever agree to have this treatment, its not like I was sick or anything. At the most I pictured having exotic massages and sipping delicious herbal tea.

Then here I am three days into my treatment, my passport and other paperwork steadily growing into a mountain, my digestive system even more screwed than before and my mind, a raging furnace, with my family being the poor victims of my unpredictable outbursts (no wonder I cannot be unleashed to the unsuspecting public)

Its one of those moments in my life when everything I touch (smell, taste, breathe,speak) is destruction, one of those moments when I wonder how 'I' of all people who meditates everyday, is a good person (at least 99%...ok 95%) cares about people and the world, could end up in such a self created MESS! Its one of those moments when I just want to disappear into anonymity.

One of those moments when I feel all the bad karma I accumulated over all my past 86,000 lifetimes has just caught up with me.

As I ponder on all this...a certain lightness envelopes me, suddenly all those thoughts in my mind that are pulling me apart in thousand different pieces disappear and I realize, that this is not the first time I have been in a situation like this, the events may be different though.

Like the time I had no place to stay while in an internship in Mumbai, or missing the train to the most important event in my life. The same panic that gripped my heart each time with an intensity of 'its all over'.

And now this lightness feels like nothing but a play of mind, without which I would have nothing to learn from, nothing to share about, and no stories to tell.

Those moments in my life are like the bitter Ayurvedic ghee that I am forced to intake, whether I digest peacefully or with a tantrum and fight...its really my choice.

One thing is for sure, I always end up feeling light and cleansed after digesting it, if I take it in the right way.

Thayir Sadam

Note: this post is dedicated to my brother in the dire hope that he is graced with the ability appriciate finer things in life (meaning, he unfortunatly does not like Thayir Sadam, although he lives in Tamil Nadu)

On a hot evening, after a long day’s work, I get back home. First thing I do is scout my refrigerator for ‘something to eat’. And today, there’s nothing but a packet of curd, probably gone sour, some curry leaves on the verge of fossilising and a half cut pomegranate looking more like tiny blood shot eyeballs.Its hot and I’ve had a long day. And I need dinner.

Its one of those unfortunate days when KK’s (my room mate and a brilliant cook) gone outstation, and I haven't eaten while out on an assignment (that's how I manage dinner). Back to reality. I need ‘something to eat’. My first impulse is to walk down to ‘Raghavendra Upahar’, and pack an Idly vada, which costs 20 bucks. But the very idea of facing that mind-numbing traffic, which took me an hour to get out of today is alarming. My second impulse, ‘order a pizza’, then I remember, how much I’ve been eating out lately resulting in a bowel activities incurable by a dozen Triphala tablets.

I take another peek into the fridge, hoping that out of a miracle, my Mom’s Sambar-Sadam and Thayir-Sadam (Sambar rice, curd rice) would materialise. Tough luck! I guess its a sign that I need to fast. My mind, body and senses protest violently. And I resign to my fate. I need to cook something. What! I mean what if get food poisoning, what if I set the house on fire, ....I don't cook, I taste people’s cooking and write what went wrong with it.

I take another peek into my fridge, and empty out the contents, and am hit with a sudden epiphany. Thayir Sadam....there’s curd, I have finally mastered the art of making rice in a cooker without it exploding, and there are these pomegranate seeds. The ingredients are perfect. So the next fifteen minutes I busy myself. The rice is cooked. The tadka is ready, so is the garnish. I mix it all with rice and add the curd finally. And Viola! I am struck by an overwhelming aroma of Thayir Sadam, bringing back all the nostalgic memories of a dish that is more of a Tamil legacy. I don't remember a time when it wasn't a part of my meal. My grand mom would use the leftover rice, and add curd, making a quick snack before the next meal. I grew up in mostly in northern parts of the country, where the concept of curd rice was non-existent, I clung to this part of my Tamil identity. Thayir Sadam with Urga (pickle) or Vathaikozambu beats the world’s most exotic and gastronomic delicacies.

I take another peek into the fridge...and this time its really a miracle. In a beautiful glass dish is the sacred ‘Thayir Sadam’. As I remove it out with utmost care, the soundtrack of ‘Chariots of fire’ plays in my mind. And I know that today will go down the history as the first time I made ‘Thayir-Sadam’. I am so super impressed, maybe I could open a Thyir Sadam exclusive restaurant. We could have flavours of Thayir Sadam, pineapple, strawberry, grapes. Abhishek and Ash would visit the restaurant, and my interview would be flashed on TV as breaking news .....whoa wait!

Right now this moment is what counts. Me, My Thayir Sadam and nothing else.

Thayir Sadam Recipe

Ingredients
Rice

Fresh curd

Asafoetida

Green chilies

Coriander leaves Salt

Ingredients for seasoning

Mustard seeds Curry leaves
seeded pomegranate/ grapes

Method of Preparing Thayir Sadam
Rice is sieved, washed and boiled. Later it is cooled and mashed. In the mashed rice, milk is added and kept aside. A cooking pan is taken and white oil is heated in it. Then mustard seeds are crackled in it with curry leaves. It is tossed in oil until light golden in color. Then chopped green chilies are added. Then mix rice with curd along with asafetida and add salt to taste. Finally mix the seeded pomegranate/ grapes and garnish with coriander leaves.

Ephemeral Flower

Dear all,

As you can see, my blog has undergone a total makeover, its the same old me, just a new look.

I think all of us need to infuse some newness in life every once in a while, just like nature does, its ancient, but evergreen, ever vibrant and ever fresh. I hope to do the same with my writing, consequently have it trickling down in life as well, with an experience of a new life with every breadth, and in this case, with every word I type and every click.

Yours comments, criticism and feedback mean a lot to me. So keep them coming. Also tell me what you'd like to read and what you'd not.

Lots of love

Ephemeral Flower

Baby Eaglet

I posted this on my blog about two years ago, and its always been one of my favourites. I have always loved animals and birds, and this is one of my rare posts on them.

Black eyes with grey pupils, occasional blinking would reveal silvery eyelids.... it lay there, crouched, helpless, and frightened to death. After all the initial commotion and hushed 'oohs' and 'aahs', it lay forgotten, battered and unattended.
I wondered what all the noise was about as I climbed up the stairs of my hostel, and I saw instantly a sight that was hard to miss .
Because it was the most beautiful and heartbreaking sight. A magnificent eagle, lay at the corner of the balcony, for a moment I, froze and felt as helpless as the eagle.
"Ooh what happened"...Rims was as awestruck as I, we just stood and gasped at the sight. What do we do? What do we do? After a flurry of phone calls, finally Harsha comes from PFA(people for animals). By this time, we were fast friends with the eagle, Rims was playing Radio Mirchi songs to him, and we were in the process of baptising our friend.
"Its so clichéd",...said rims sounding disgusted, and wouldn't let me name him Angel.
Harsha spread his beautiful wings, and I was scared,
" he’s not had water for a couple of days, so has fainted of dehydration, he’s barely 20 days old"
"Ooh a baby eaglet!
"A baby eaglet...there's no such thing as baby eaglet".
We fed him water, and he was up in minutes. "Can he fly"
"sure, in about a month"!
"That long"?
"Yeah, coz it cant hunt yet"
"so its really a baby eaglet"
"i said there aint nothing known as......"
"Where are you going to take him?"
"Animal hospital"
"can we come visit him"
"we have about fifty birds, you wont recognise him"
Harsh then put eaglet in a shoe box...and I made one last desperate attempt ."Can I carry him"
"uh, no thanks".... and he was gone,
We named him Eaglet (and that’s not clichéd?)
Phone rings an hour later saying he's in the ICU and will be fine. Somehow the image of Eaglet in ICU on the ventilator and nurses fussing over him cracks me up. "You can visit Saturday’s and Sundays", which cracks me up further.
I don’t think I’ll visit him, One day when I look up at the sky, I wouldn’t be surprised to see my Angel...er...Eaglet soaring high watching over me. And who says I wont recognise him.

Beyond words

Here's the problem I face. I write for a living, and when this is all you do, day after day, any extra writing, starts feeling like a pain. In circumstances such as these I have realised one thing that makes every piece of writing memorable. The integrity in it. Writing for a newspaper, I pretty much don't have a choice on what to write. And over a period of time, writing starts feeling artificial, as if they are just a lifeless string of words, meant to be forgotten in a nano second. But writing can be alive, it can be vibrant, and it captures in them, the very essence of who you are.

So the best pieces of writing reflect your image like a mirror. By ‘your’ I don't mean the writes’s but every person who reads that it. The words start becoming a part of you, as though it was echoing your own thoughts. And for the writer, its a spiritual experience, like art, it manifests itself out of thin air and acquires a personality of its own. Then you read back your own words and go ‘I cant believe I wrote that!’.

But when you write for a living, these moments are so rare, that you almost fight for it...and then when you let go, it magically reappears. As vibrant, as alive as ever. Waiting to be written. In such times there is really no difference between the writer and the pen or keyboard in this case, as both are mere instruments, that allow higher experiences and knowledge to flow though them. In fact there is really no difference between the writer, the pen, the words and the reader.

Its not a problem anymore, so what if I write for a living, so what if i do this day after day. So what! Its all the same anyway. The writer, the pen, the words and the reader.

And as a writer its not what I write that counts. But the experience in itself. I don't write 'for a living', but I write 'living'.

Dreams come true

Alladin and the magic lamp.

I always loved Genies...it began with Alladin. Then came the classic ‘I dream of Jennie’, an English soap opera dubbed in Hindi, where a NASA space scientist stumbles into a blond Genie, and falls in love with her. Then came Christina Aguilera's ‘Genie in a bottle’...which almost qualified as a teen pop anthem in 1999.

But nothing beat ‘Alladin’, and the song ‘A whole new world’. I remember, buying Alladin stickers as a 10 year old and sticking it all over mom’s new almirah, and she spent hours cleaning it later. It was one of my favourite movies till date, and I spoiled the music tape, by playing it a million times, till I could sing all the songs backwards.

At some point or the other we’ve all been Genies to someone, and it occurred to me that Genies always seem to have more fun, even though they have restricted freedom. A Genie never wants anything for himself/herself, and never runs behind treasures, but still serves unconditionally.

And a Genie is crazy, unpredictable, funny apart from being everyone’s dream come true. So more than having a Genie, its pretty awesome to be one. Its not always easy, but worth it. Check out the song and especially the lyrics.

Here are the lyrics of 'A whole new world', do catch its video on Youtube

I can show you the world Shining, shimmering, splendid

Tell me, princess, now when did

You last let your heart decide?

I can open your eyes

Take you wonder by wonder

Over, sideways and under

On a magic carpet ride

A whole new world

A new fantastic point of view

No one to tell us no

Or where to go

Or say we're only dreaming

A whole new world

A dazzling place I never knew

But when I'm way up here

It's crystal clear

That now I'm in a whole new world with you

Unbelievable sights

Indescribable feeling

Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling

Through an endless diamond sky

A whole new world

Don't you dare close your eyes

A hundred thousand things to see

Hold your breath - it gets better

I'm like a shooting star

I've come so far

I can't go back to where I used to be

A whole new world

Every turn a surprise

With new horizons to pursue

Every moment red-letter

I'll chase them anywhere

There's time to spare

Let me share this whole new world with you

A whole new world

That's where we'll be

A thrilling chase

A wondrous place

For you and me

Chini kum... a sugar free life

"Sugar is without question the number one murderer in the history of
humanity — much lethal than opium or radioactive fallout..." Putting' it
bluntly, the human body cannot handle man-refined sucrose erroneously called
sugar"- Japanese natural healer, Sakurazawa

With a lot of enthusiasm and determination, I had decided to give up sugar and white flour (maida). It felt great, coz discipline is not one of my biggest virtue, especially when it comes to my food habits. It all started one evening when I asked Bawa, “what do I do if I feel sleepy and lethargic even after proper 6 -8 hours sleep. “look at your diet, and cut out white sugar and maida” he said simply. So my Inspiration came from Bawa, who even bakes delicious cakes and other desserts sugar free, so giving up wasn't so tough.

I even flaunted my sugar free status on twitter, gtalk and face book, and drew quiet a bit of attention.

And then for a couple of day by some weird quirk of fate, the choicest of the gourmet sugar loaded delicacies were offered to me. Blueberry cheese cake, hot chocolate fudge, strawberry with whipped cream, jalebi.....it was okay till then,

but for the past 24 hours, there was mysore pak, soft drinks, tomato ketchup !!!!

stuff which I wouldn't touch normally suddenly felt like a life saving drug!

And then all those Cafe coffee days, Baristas and cake shops that I wouldn't look at twice, seemed to pop out with all its vividness while everything else including traffic blurred into the background.

The worst was, every single item on their window seemed to have sprouted an ‘eat me’ sign.

“its alright to just have one ‘strawberry-kiwi’ smoothie, who knows I might even get enlightened”.

“what if I was starving, wouldn't one bite of a back forest pastry save my life”

And then comes the worst bit, people started bombarding me with dabba after dabba of Ugadi sweets.

“Well, I can go sugarless after Ugadi, I cant go hurting people’s sentiments by not accepting their ‘sweet gestures’ ?”

Wait that’s not the worst bit, the worst bit is people acting as if you are terminally ill.

“Are u diabetic?”,

“What's wrong with you?”, or the less extreme

"Are you on a diet?"
"do u wanna loose weight?"

Then I think about why I am leading a diabetic life? and I get my answers alright!
read this - http://daghettotymz.com/current/whitesugar2/whitesugar2.html,

Q & A

Dear Bau, I have been off sugar since yesterday, and you're right, I
feel much better (less tired). I am giving it up for good, but everything from pani puri to tomato ketchup these days contains sugar. Can you please give me some tips to help me stick to this.
Answer: Once u get off it, you will realise that there are many alternatives available steer clear of all the chemical sweeteners, they are worse. Jaggery, honey, maple syrup are fantastic alternatives and in a bit you will get used to their taste. After 3 months try eating a normal sugar thing and it will leave u disgusted.

Most importantly, I feel great, though my taste buds sometimes violently protest.

But if it leaves me stronger, healthier and improve my lifestyle which I know it will, its all for the good. And oh I also saved quiet a bit of money not eating junk which I can (and i did) unashamedly spend on shopping.

The curious case of Krishna Kalyan

Today’s the day I feel weirdly nostalgic about! Its Krishna’s (my brother’s) birthday. If he was around, we would have gone out to eat at some ridiculously expensive restaurant, and he would have demanded a ridiculously expensive gift (like a macbook pro).But since I am saving so much money, I decided to dedicate this post to him.

When he was born and I was about three, I remember being wildly angry at my parents and kicked, screamed and demanded them to go right back to the hospital, and leave him there.But since then, I’ve grown quiet affable to his presence (OMG I’ve endured 20 years of torture, no wonder our family turned spiritual).

Though we fought like cats and dogs, and I’d always outwit and outdo him at any combat. That is until 14, when gods suddenly decided to grace him with height, and he started resembling a bean pole overnight, and I knew that I was physically (rather vertically) challenged to fight our brutal wars. As a kid he was a FAT baby, and he would hardly talk, little did we know that the seeds of a master arguementator was being sown, and now with his words, he can baffle the most accomplished of word smith (even dad).

He loves speaking about himself, My earliest memories of krishna talking about himself in past tense when he was two years old, saying “ Jab main one dena half ka than na..(when I was one-dena half...).” And he would say that till he was 5.

At 6, I did something that he would never forgive me of, I poured half a bottle of vinegar (very smelly) on his head, and he smelt of vinegar for one week!This started the onslaught of our fragrance wars. Our dad had gone in a ship and brought these two horrid human repellent Jasmine perfume for our mom. And we caught hold of these and used it as our arsenal. One threat of using these would stop the most intense fight. But there were times when we did use it, and then we’d have to open all windows and switch on all the fans and only then could we breathe.

He started displaying leadership qualities at mere 9 years, when he became the youngest leader of a gang comprising 12 and 13 year olds (no proof, strictly his claims, citation needed). And finally at 15 he transformed into human magically after doing YES course with Shreya Didi. Read here about it. And then well, we all lived happily ever after.

That's it. Happy Birthday bro. When (and if) you are really famous one day, I promise to be your official biographer, and we will make millions and become really rich.

Beeline Vs byline

My desk and my system sat there exactly the way i'd left them, my water bottle at the workstation with 'MADHURI' inscribed in it was filled with fresh water. The floor was abuzz with activity, calling me to join in the frenzy to meet the deadline of firing the pages.

A pile of press event invitation lay there, and i instinctively grab them to scan which of them would be exciting to cover. Then i realise, I don't work here any anymore.

It's then that the trauma of quitting your job hits you. The same chair and workstation where i sat for the past one year, where i cried with frustration, jumped with joy, stole afternoon naps, quietly devoured a whole bar of chocolate without sharing, watched youtube in spite of the pending deadline, decorated with stuff toys and feng shui artifacts and even meditated.......

All dissolves. Quitting this job has been enormously painful, especially the ending part where it dragged on for days.

And now its finally over, and it's sapped me dry of all the energy, on top of it, dealing with a lot of uncertainties that were hounding me. I'm sick of answering every other person 'whats next!' as if it makes any difference to them.

I shoot a mail to my team members, saying goodbye and how nice it was to work and blah, feeling numb inside. My emotions are dangerously bordering towards what i've not had for a long time.....depression! And am surprised at myself.

Like wow, its been more than two years since i've been properly depressed. Saying this,

i just laugh at myself. At how stupid the whole thing sounds. And suddenly i also feel enormously blessed, for understanding the tricks for not feeling low.

Its like a life jacket, when you see every thing in this world as transient and somehow finding a sense of certainty in uncertainty.

That's what i realised. The body needs to work, and mind needs to chill out, and most of the time i was doing the opposite, getting my mind worked out and freezing my actions, i guess we're programmed to do this, especially when we feel down.

Another trick i've discovered to get out of feeling down, is to not take it seriously, because every time it feels as if its gonna stay forever. But it doesn't.

Knowledge and meditation and kriya act as an anaesthetic to pain...even though you feel the pain, you can accept it and go through with it, feeling light inside. Without carrying a heavy load in your heart, coz that's what blocks love. And love is like oxygen.....

And i feel light as cotton candy inside. Though i might still burst into tears.

So that's me quitting as a copy editor of Times of India. And this will probably be the last time i type a story in this system. Stories have an ending and beginning, but they never stop. Even if they are not published, even if there is no byline. And i guess those are some of the best stories in the world. Stories that cant be told, but experienced.

short day...long night

Mahashivratri day…and for some reason, I feel really festive today. Especially after firing page 3. Making page 3 is like filling the page with 5% information and 95%…uh well…crap!
So ads are more than welcome, in fact I break into a war dance when I see a page full of ads. This isn’t the case always, there are times when we have actual news worthy events…. but that’s exactly when the ads decide to grace us.
Gotta rush…long day ahead…. need to go to the temple…. jam with my guitar…stay up all night…. and yeah am also fasting.
More tomorrow.

That's everything

Since i have nothing to talk about today (unless you want another crib session), lets talk about nothing!

................coz that's what am left with everyday when my head hits the pillow.

late morning

Just got done with Page 3 gupshup for Monday, so that's a load off head....yesterday eve was pathetic! i mean, i never ever can relate to hard core party crowd.
Its as if people are really trying hard to enjoy, but they soo not!
Its pretty painful really. I donno, i never wanna attend that kind of party anymore. But thanx to my job.....
Okay crib time over! tomorrow is sunday, so thats a relief...pathi was angry coz i slept in late and skipped breakfast coz i reached home so late last night.
The days i wake up late, dont go too well....ever!
Just wanna go home now and play my guitar till i finally get bar chords

Leap year day

Yesterday was fun, Sam came to TOI and would start freelancing for us, later we went and had coffee at barista, and bestest part was the satsang! I really really really missed my guitar, but have made up mind to go every week from now on. Today morning pathi dragged me out of bed at 7 am and made me go for a morning walk! Which I hate to admit was pretty good….sadhana went superb after that. And after the initial heavy-duty tantrums thrown by mind, it’s really not that bad…I realize that life’s pretty ordinary really, it’s the mind which sensationalizes it!

Yet another lazy day at work, gotta interview bally Sagoo in da eve, so that’s cool!

40 minutes later….

People envy my work, coz I get to party as a part of it…what they don’t realize that for me, my party begins the minute I close my eyes, and feel the presence. Am kinda hungry, wondering if can go grab a bite!
Oh also today is leap year day.Ooops forget to think of a bday gift for krish…gotta think of something soon!

Un-Im-Press-ed

That’s it!
Cant take it no more, have finally crossed the threshold of endurance, and now I refuse to face this crap any longer!

I know it’s not even worth blogging about, but my blood’s boiling and temper’s on overdrive, and if I don’t vent it out this way, you might be the punching bag and the chances increase manifold if you belong to the opposite sex.

It all began way before the press meet that I attended today, but today’s press meet was the final nail in the coffin.
It was a nice press meet, in a nice conference room, with nice food…..oh I forgot to mention that we were the only women there!
First of all we were subjected to grotesque stares , we’re used to that, no point in whining coz I know its unfair to the larger part of the population to be attractive….and more than that…..its downright criminal to be intelligent as well as attractive!

Okay coming back to my point, after the painful scrutiny, we did ask sensible questions at the press conference which was on sports, where even the so called ‘seasoned’ journalist didn’t know what they were talking about.
Lots of egos were bruised, and one senior pressperson even had the gall to mail me asking to 'inform him' when I attend press meets as I would be in an ‘awkward’ position if anyone questioned my credentials as a proper ‘sports journalist’.

Does sport have a gender, does the press have a gender, why is this territory labeled as such.

“For a women you know quiet a lot about sports……”, I do not take that as a complement.
I am not rebelling, just make a couple of observations and letting my pals know that we aren’t in dark ages anymore and I don’t believe in trash like ‘emancipation of women’….I think it’s the other way round, those who are insecure of themselves and retort to ‘guarding’ their territory need emancipation!

It just baffles me why educated, intelligent socially aware humans act like Neanderthal gits!
Its really a lot of fun to watch how one small, silly thing can throw people off balance, guess the sporting instinct gets entrenched at their emotional level as well!