From the pensive 6

A chilly winter evening of year 2007. Tired after a days work of staring blankly at the computer monitor, doing almost nothing other than entering the timesheet, I was waiting for my train home at Princeton station.

It was pitch dark even though it was only a few minutes past 6. It had snowed earlier in the day and the patches of white, here and there, gave the evening an eerie feel. I sat on a bench wondered why I was even there.

It was my first job in the USA, I had a very long commute home, the work was hardly interesting and the pay was less than the industry standard. Everyday, up and down, I would worry if I really had to take this up. I would try to read, while on the train, and take my mind off.

An old lady came and sat beside me. I smiled and nodded and wondered if she would talk to me.

She spoke with a strange accent. She said she was visiting her daughter in New York. She was thrilled to make a trip all the way from Europe, she liked to explore the places all by herself, but she had been having trouble making herself understood. She told me about her daughter, her grand children, their life...

She then received a call from her daughter. I heard her talking in an unfamiliar language which sounded more like a strenuous vocal exercise . At one point I even doubted if she was clearing her throat.

Later she told me that she was really proud of her daughter and grandchildren for not losing touch with their language.

Their language, of course, was German.

She then told me about her life in the post-war Europe. She was an engineer too, an electrical engineer, who had to struggle for acceptance in a male-dominant society. She told me how tough it was for her and she thought it's still tough for women from developing countries. She told me that she was proud of women like me who fought against all odds, who tried to break free of shackles and rise above the oppressions cast by the society.

She didn't know that she was talking to the wrong woman.
Yea, I was brave enough to stand up for my choices, but I never thought of myself as fighter or a pioneer of anything. I had made up my mind that I would give up my career when we had a baby. Again, that was my choice, society hadn't asked me to do it.

But the nice German lady was smiling at me affectionately and I acted like a pioneer. Yea,  the shackle.. Tell me about it..

We talked all the way to Newark where I had to get off. She called up her daughter a couple of times and talked in that 'funny language' and I tried my best not to laugh. I reminded her that she had to get off at Newyork Penn Station, before I got off.

 I met a friend in the path train to Jersey city. I told her how funny German sounded. |I imitated it as best as I could and made her laugh.

But when I walked home from the station, all alone and cold, I felt sad. I looked vaguely at the Christmas light which was still there, even if it was almost the end of January.

How is it possible that sometimes, random strangers could make you think about the possibilities, make you reflect on the past or even  glimpse into the future, how does it all work, this infinite matrix of people, friends, relatives, acquaintances, and strangers.

I felt that I shouldn't have made fun of that language.


 

Songs that make me cry

I've been listening to songs like crazy as words are slipping away. Some songs make me happy, some annoy me for no reason and some make me tear up whenever I listen to them.

 

These are my favourite sad songs at the moment. That reminds me, I have a dictation again on Monday.

 

10,  Jaane kya dhoondhti rahti hain from shola aur Shabnam

 

 

 

9 Tum pukarlo from Khamoshi

 

 

 

8 Kannodu Kannoram from Ente Mammattikuttiyammaykku

 

 

7 Unnikale oru kadha paryam from Unnikale oru kadha parayam

 

6 Suhani chandni raatein from Mukti

 



 

5 Zindagi ki safar mein from Aap ki kasam

 

 

4 Tum na jaane kis jahan mein from Sazaa

 

3  Na ye chand hoga from Shard

 

2 Aayiram kannumai from Nokketha doorathu kannum nattu

 

1 And of course...Oru ragamala korthu from Dhwani 









 

Butterflies in cement gardens..
We're done chasing them.
Wake me up now,
Tell me it was all a dream!

I dread Fridays now. I have a test every Friday.
100s of new words, their crazy spelling and gender, grammar rules and exceptions.....
I am becoming less optimistic day by day.

I hope every one is doing good and ungermanised..

 

The tidings from Dreamland

Navneeth usually has trouble falling asleep. Even when he is tired, he tries to fight sleep with unfailing dedication. He would challenge the very idea of 'retiring to bed'. I'm often at loss telling stories, singing songs and answering questions. I would then yell out 'Off we go to Dreamland'.

Now, the question is where is Dreamland. Is it anywhere near Deutschland? Or is it near India? Is it near the equator? Is it always sunny there?

No! Dreamland is not a country. You won't be able to locate it on the globe. Its simply the place little children and their tired mothers go to, when they fall asleep. Its a beautiful, beautiful place with green meadows, rainbows and trees. There are flowers everywhere, roses, jasmine, tulips and daisies, the whole place is covered with flowers and there are fruits in every tree. Birds sing the songs of the spring and the leaves dance to the effervescence of the sweet, fragrant breeze.....

"Stop, stop...Did you say there are birds.." Navneeth asked sitting up. He looked at me sceptically.
"Yes, These birds sing songs too."
"Angry birds..?"
"No, Not angry birds. Regular, friendlier birds.."
"But, why can't angry birds come there too."
"No one can ever be angry in Dreamland."
"But I want angry birds in my Dreamland. I want them to eat those fruits.."
"Hmm..Ok. As long as they're not messing around with their sling-shots."

Children run around everywhere, plucking flowers, eating fruits and chasing after squirrels......

"Are there shops in Dreamland? How do I buy toys. I want toy shops and candy shops and houses with toilets."
"Ok, you can go to your Dreamland and I'll go to mine."
"Mine is better than yours. Mine has Angry birds!"
"I'm fine with no Angry birds."
"Amme.. You can come into mine, if you want to.. There are shops."
"I don't want shops."
"But I don't want to be alone, will you come into mine..?"


I'm sitting here with my German course book worrying about unpronounceable words and incomprehensible Grammatika. Its almost midnight here and I have a test tomorrow.
I find myself clinging to the thoughts of Dreamland, where anything is possible.

Don't we all have our own Dreamland, our own refuge from crazy reality? And don't we all wish to have someone to share our dreams?

This chilly winter night surrounds me with a dreamy silence, in moments like this I think I can almost merge dreams and reality!

Happy thoughts and Smiles!

The silence is lovely, but I would let this beautiful song to break it.

This is my 100'th post.. :-)


 

Who am I ? What am I?

 Since I left my job, since I stopped preparing for job interviews, such questions and their answers had disappeared from the horizons. Last week, they came back to my life, in another language.

First thing they teach you in a language class, is to introduce yourself, your name, profession, age, family status, hobbies etc..
I wondered if I should say that I'm a homemaker, just that.

But the fact is, I could not! First of all, I didn't know the German word for homemaker.
Secondly I couldn't bring myself to admit that I'm just a homemaker. So I answered that I'm an engineer by profession.

Ich bin ingineerin von beroof.

I've been trying to tackle the ego, when I meet people I try not to advertise that I once had a well paid job. But deep inside, I'm still insecure, there's always this struggle to  not to be labelled a housewife.
Why? Sometimes even I wonder. Why shouldn't I just say that I'm a housewife and be happy about it? Why do I still say that I left my job to take care of son?
I guess ego is not an easy thing to burst off!

I'm still trying to figure out the real answers of those question..




 

I remember watching the movie Dosti a long time ago. Dosti is actually a saga of friendship between two teenagers.

I watched it again last week, after a couple of decades, as I'm obsessed with its songs, now my polluted mind wonders what its really about.

But the film will eternally be remembered for its songs. I guess I have already shared most of its songs, I actually don't know which one I like most.

Here's another

 

 

The lyrics, kind of, makes me want to cry!

 

 

chupa hua sa mujchi mein, hain tum kahi, eh dost,

 

meri hasin mein nahi to meri aah mein hain!

 



 

ich bin traurig...

:-(

 

This German class is taking the life out of me :(
How difficult it is to learn a new language.. Especially when you are not 'striving for knowledge' anymore.

Thank you to those who reviewed Unravelled. I would have considered an alternate ending, had anyone given me some good suggestions!

Of course, I rejected the master plan to make it depressing and thought provoking.

But I guess I basically tried to convey this message.
Let go of past. Don't give up on people you cared about. They would always find a way to come back to you!


 

The Unravelled is available as an e-book here.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/393521

I request all privileged readers of this blog to review it at smashwords site.  Its ok even if you do it under a fake name.

You can be honest. At least that way I would get to know what you think about it.

From the pensieve 5

I opened my window and stared at the eerie darkness of a sultry summer night. It was the October of 2003, but as everybody knows, Chennai has four summers.

He was sound asleep. A sudden suffocation had woken me up. I had stared helplessly at the ceiling fan for quite some time before getting up to open the windows.

I had recently got married and moved to the new city. We had fought quite a few battles at home past few years just for this. Everything was going to fall into place when we finally get married. I was going to manage everything 'perfectly'. Everything was going to be just perfect.
Actually it was perfect in a way, my in laws treated me alright , somehow I hadn't expected that, we did get a comfortable 2 bedroom apartment in Chennai, and I did manage to get a job in the company where my husband worked.

But my body was behaving mysteriously. I had lived a perfectly healthy 24 years before moving to Chennai, but as soon as I stepped into the new life, I started having health issues I never had before. I ached, shivered, coughed and bled in ways unknown to me until then. The doctor had to put me under some strong medication and I had gained a lot of weight because of that. Being overweight was something I had never foreseen in my pre-marriage life. I had to fold a cupboard full of clothes and set them aside for some indefinite time in the future when I would I lose all the weight.

My husband, young and clueless himself, had no idea how to cheer me up.  He bought sweet boxes almost everyday, he knew that I was an incurable sweet-tooth. He tried to overlook the fact that I was overweight. Anyways, I wouldn't join a gym or go jogging with him, my body actually refused to move unnecessarily.

I was typically a child-woman, I would get excited for small things and feel bad for almost everything. With my cooking experiments, I had burnt many vessels and the pressure cooker had to replaced twice. I was yet to master the art of cooking, the art of planning, the art of not throwing half the vegetables I bought.

Still, our flimsy young brains planned out future. The first thing we had to do was to buy a house! Why? I would like to ask my 24 year old self, and she would probably say that that's what you do when you are married. We would go and see apartments every week, we would work out the EMI and stare desperately at the sky!

Staring at the sky! yes! That was what I was doing that night, though the giant apartment buildings on the other side obstructed the supreme limitlessness of it.

 I took deep breaths, I pressed my face on the grill and felt the heartless coldness of the metal. My eyes desperately, searched the sky for a lonely star.

I felt strange, like I was part of something big, something I could not understand. I felt like I was in a song, trapped eternally in its nuances, looking for my way out through the notes. I felt like this was what I had been doing all my life, staring into the night sky, gazing at a star. Or perhaps my whole life was channelled for this moment. I had to wake up with cold sweats and open the window and stare at the sky. And strangely I felt that my life was going to change. It was going to change forever, though I had no idea how.

I believed in signs, undeniably so! Was my body, with its aches and pains, trying to tell me something? Was something going to happen to me? What ever it was I was going to succumb to it. I made a mental note to tell my husband that he should remarry if I die.

I had no control over it, what ever it was.  And with that knowledge I felt completely at peace. I was part of a plan!

We do sometimes misinterpret signs. And of course I didn't die. But I often find myself going back to that sultry Chennai night, and wonder what it was all about. I Try to trace out the origins of that strange, volatile feeling.

This hopelessness that some of us feel at the beginning of the year could also be a volatile thing. May be things would start falling into place right from this day!

Happy New Year!









 

 How did they make songs as perfect as this one...