Virtual Coffee Mornings - Update

Dear All

It's been a week since the drive to raise funds for LAFTI was launched. I'm touched by your generosity. When I last spoke to LAFTI, they were not sure how much donations had been received. But promised to keep me posted as and when the cheques come through. The drive is by no means over. And you are always welcome to remember LAFTI whenever you have something to spare. Please make your donations to

Name of the Bank : Federal Bank
Address : Thanjavur, Tamilnadu, India
Swift Code : FDRL – INBB – IBD to the Credit of Krishnammal Jegannathan
AccountNumber : SB 5559.

If you wish to send cheques, please draw them in favour of Krishnammal Jegannathan and send them to:
LAFTI
Vinoba Ashram
Kuthur
Nagapattinam district
Tamil Nadu
INDIA
PINCODE 611 105
You may reach them at 00914366-275443 and 275540. E-mail: laftitngsm@yahoo.co.in

Thank you!

Coming Soon!

The Cult of Bad Mama

Virtual Coffee Mornings - Contest 7

Story time

Use this image to tell me a story. Keep it short and please post it in the comment box. And don't forget to drop those coins in your coffee mug.

To participate, all you need to do is place a coffee mug (preferably clean) next to your computer. And once you have entered a contest, drop some small change into it. At the end of the week, collect the coins (hopefully some notes too) and send them to LAFTI in India. Here are their bank details.

Name of the Bank : Federal Bank
Address : Thanjavur, Tamilnadu, India
Swift Code : FDRL – INBB – IBD to the Credit of Krishnammal Jegannathan
AccountNumber : SB 5559. If you wish to send cheques, please draw them in favour of Krishnammal Jegannathan and send them to: LAFTI
Vinoba Ashram
Kuthur
Nagapattinam district
Tamil Nadu
INDIA
PINCODE 611 105

You may reach them at 00914366-275443 and 275540. E-mail: laftitngsm@yahoo.co.in

This is part of a series of contests I 'm hosting to raise funds for LAFTI. The organisation will help women buy seeds so they may cultivate their lands within the next few days.

Virtual Coffee Mornings - Contest 6

Countdown

How many words can you do with the following set of letters. Which one's the longest?
You can only use each letter once.

F-L-R-J-G-O-T-O-E

Please post your answers in the comment box. And don't forget to drop those coins in your coffee mug.To participate, all you need to do is place a coffee mug (preferably clean) next to your computer. And once you have entered a contest, drop some small change into it. At the end of the week, collect the coins (hopefully some notes too) and send them to LAFTI in India. Here are their bank details.

Name of the Bank : Federal Bank
Address : Thanjavur, Tamilnadu, India
Swift Code : FDRL – INBB – IBD
To the Credit of Krishnammal Jegannathan
AccountNumber : SB 5559

If you wish to send cheques, please draw them in favour of Krishnammal Jegannathan and send them to:
LAFTI
Vinoba Ashram
Kuthur
Nagapattinam district
Tamil Nadu
INDIA
PINCODE 611 105
You may reach them at 00914366-275443 and 275540. E-mail: laftitngsm@yahoo.co.in

This is part of a series of contests I 'm hosting to raise funds for LAFTI. The organisation will help women buy seeds so they may cultivate their lands within the next 10 days.

Virtual Coffee Mornings - Contest 5

A more regular quiz. Thanks, Chen for the questions.


1. Who read the Tamil News bulletin in All India Radio on 15th Aug1947 about India getting independence?


2. Microsoft was in bad shape in 1986. Bill Gates offered a stake inMS to another IT Company, which refused. Which company was that?


3. Who was the first person to make a film on Mahatma Gandhi? (No, it's not Richard Attenborough)


4. This company's share price was traded at Rs. 50,000.00 in BombayStock Exchange in 1865, a record that has not yet been broken. Which company are we talking about?


5. The Chola King Rajendra Chola is also known as 'kadaram kondan'-meaning he won over the city of Kadaram. What is this city called now? (this is googlable. So don't)


6. "It gets dug out of the ground in Africa, or someplace. Then we melt it down, dig another hole, bury it again and pay people to stand around guarding it. It has no utility. Anyone watching from Mars wouldbe scratching their head." - Who said this about what?


7. Name the actor who acted in all three first talkie movies in Hindi,Tamil and Telugu.


8. Identify the groom

9. And one for the one I missed last time. Which blogger signs WA?

Post your answers in the comment box. And don't forget to drop those coins in your coffee mug.

To participate, all you need to do is place a coffee mug (preferably clean) next to your computer. And once you have entered a contest, drop some small change into it. At the end of the week, collect the coins (hopefully some notes too) and send them to LAFTI in India. Here are their bank details.
Name of the Bank : Federal Bank
Address : Thanjavur, Tamilnadu, IndiaSwift Code : FDRL – INBB – IBD
To the Credit of Krishnammal Jagannathan
AccountNumber : SB 5559

If you wish to send cheques, please draw them in favour of Krishnammal Jegannathan and send them to:
LAFTI,
Vinoba Ashram,
Kuthur,
Nagapattinam district,
Tamil Nadu.
INDIA
PINCODE 611 105
You may reach them at 00914366-275443 and 275540. E-mail: laftitngsm@yahoo.co.in

This is part of a series of contests I 'm hosting to raise funds for LAFTI. The organisation will help women buy seeds so they may cultivate their lands within the next 10 days.

Contact Details for Lafti

Hello again
Many of you have written to me wondering what the postal address is for you to send cheques to. Please draw your cheques in favour of Krishnammal Jegannathan and send them to:

LAFTI,
Vinoba Ashram,
Kuthur,
Nagapattinam district,
Tamil Nadu.
INDIA
PINCODE 611 105

You may reach them at 00914366-275443 and 275540. E-mail: laftitngsm@yahoo.co.in

Please note that Tamil is their preferred language of communication. Emails are responded to within a day or two. Thank you for your generosity!

Meet Gambaloo!

Result from Contest 1

The boy has spoken. A name's chosen. Meet Gambaloo. Thank you Lightrain for suggesting it. Exceptional fame and unforseen fortunes await you. Thanks all for participating.

Virtual Coffee Mornings - Contest 4

Kwiz

A more general quiz will follow. But for the moment, test your knowledge of desi blogs.


1. Which blogger is affectionately referred to as 'The King'?

2. Whose tagline is 'Cooking with consciousness'?

3. Identify this lady blogger.

4. Whose blog was awarded the Best Topical Indiblog at the Indibloggies 2005?

5. What is Nilu's alter ego called?

6. Who are the founders of Desipundit?

7. Who refers to her children as the Brat and the Bean?

8. What major change happened in one of India's top blogs on the 15th of February 2007?

9. What is common to mumbaigirl, shoefiend, 30in2005 and Neha Vishwanathan?

10. Identify the blogger whose journey went - Tamirabharani to Thames via Cooum.

Post your answers in the comment box. And don't forget to drop those coins in your coffee mug.

To participate, all you need to do is place a coffee mug (preferably clean) next to your computer. And once you have entered a contest, drop some small change into it. At the end of the week, collect the coins (hopefully some notes too) and send them to LAFTI in India.

Here are their bank details.
Name of the Bank : Federal Bank
Address : Thanjavur, Tamilnadu, India
Swift Code : FDRL – INBB – IBD
To the Credit of Krishnammal Jagannathan
AccountNumber : SB 5559

This is part of a series of contests I 'm hosting to raise funds for LAFTI. The organisation will help women buy seeds so they may cultivate their lands within the next 10 days.

LAFTI - contact details

Hello

Many of you have written to me wondering what other form of payments LAFTI will accept. Unfortunately, I do not know the answer to that. I have reccomended paypal but they seem unsure how to set it up. You can contact them directly at:

Phone: 0091 4366-275443 and 275540.
E-mail: laftitngsm@yahoo.co.in

Please note that Tamil is their preferred language of communication and email responses are usually delayed by a day or two.

Thank you for your generosity.

Virtual Coffee Mornings - Contest 3

Lifejacket

You are stuck on a sinking boat. Along with Rajinikanth, Shahrukh Khan and Sachin Tendulkar. But there's only one lifejacket.

Kanna, this lifejacket is mine. Why? Why? Why? you ask. Because I am the one and only superstar and if I die whose cut outs will my fans worship, I say? he demands and with a flick of his hair, he salutes everyone goodbye and is about to slip into the lifejacket. But Shahrukh stops him in his path. N-n-n-no, Rajini-saar, he argues, the lifejacket should be mine. I am afterall the overactor of them all. If I die, Kaun Banega Crorepati?

But just as Shahrukh is about to grab the lifejacket from Rajini, a twirling cricket bat stops them both. Nahin, cries a pre-pubescent voice, this lifejacket belongs to me. I'm the last remaining cricketing hero of this nation, says Sachin, if I die, what will happen to all my sponsors? Soon, a tussle breaks out among the three of them. Now it's your turn to argue why the lifejacket should be yours. Make it quick, because water is seeping into your boat and you don't have long to go.


But who wins the lifejacket? Winner announced in a couple of days.





To participate, all you need to do is place a coffee mug (preferably clean) next to your computer. And once you have entered a contest, drop some small change into it. At the end of the week, collect the coins (hopefully some notes too) and send them to LAFTI in India. Here are their bank details.

Name of the Bank : Federal Bank
Address : Thanjavur, Tamilnadu, India
Swift Code : FDRL – INBB – IBD
To the Credit of Krishnammal Jagannathan
AccountNumber : SB 5559

This is part of a series of contests I 'm hosting to raise funds for LAFTI. The organisation will help women buy seeds so they may cultivate their lands within the next 10 days.

Virtual Coffee Mornings - Contest 2

Rajini wants Punch Dialaak

In his next film Vinnveli - The Space, Rajini is born into a poor family and studies under the starlit sky. He grows up fascinated with space and one day, while on a holiday in Morocco, he comes across a poster from NASA asking for astronauts. Rajini breaks a coconaut in nearby Egypt's famous Pillayar Kovil and goes to America to become astronaut. But very bad American conspiracy against Indian people denies Rajini his chance in space.

Flying back to India, Rajini notices vast expanse of mountainous uninhabited territory and he decides to stop there for some rest and recovery. So he asks the pilot to drop him off at the nearest mountain top. When he steps off the plane, he is stunned by the sight that confronts him. Cages upon cages packed with writhing, struggling human beings. Rajini realises that this is another of America's plan for global domination. America has been enticing bright and famous people of other countries with offers of space travel, rounding them off and putting them in prison in that remote territory. How can Rajini allow a travesty of such monumental proportions to carry on? Rajini bristles in righteous indignation and a cunning plan forms in his mind. How he takes on the might of America single-handedly and restores peace and intelligence in the the world forms the rest of the story.

So what do you have to do? Suggest good punch dialogues that Rajini will utter in the course of Vinnveli - The Space. The winner will be announced on this blog in a couple of days' time. Go on, get started. Oru daravai sonna...

To participate, all you need to do is place a coffee mug (preferably clean) next to your computer. And once you have entered a contest, drop some small change into it. At the end of the week, collect the coins (hopefully some notes too) and send them to LAFTI in India. Here are their bank details.

Name of the Bank : Federal Bank
Address : Thanjavur, Tamilnadu, India
Swift Code : FDRL – INBB – IBD
To the Credit of Krishnammal Jagannathan
AccountNumber : SB 5559

This is part of a series of contests I will be hosting to raise funds for LAFTI. The organisation will help women buy seeds so they may cultivate their lands within the next 10 days.

Virtual Coffee Mornings - Contest 1

Teddy No Name

Meet Teddy. He has two eyes, two large ears, a few paint stains, some dirt from being played roughly with. But no name. And he is looking to you to suggest one. The sillier the better. This contest will be open for one day only. So send your entry straightaway by posting it in the comment box. The best one will be chosen by Jikku, the boy and announced on this blog. Now, can you really resist that?

To participate, all you need to do is place a coffee mug (preferably clean) next to your computer. And once you have entered a contest, drop some small change into it. At the end of the week, collect the coins (hopefully some notes too) and send them to LAFTI in India. Here are their bank details.

Name of the Bank : Federal Bank

Address : Thanjavur, Tamilnadu, India

Swift Code : FDRL – INBB – IBD

To the Credit of Krishnammal Jagannathan

AccountNumber : SB 5559

This is the first in the series of contests I will be hosting to raise funds for LAFTI. The organisation will help women buy seeds so they may cultivate their lands within the next 10 days.

Virtual Coffee Mornings in aid of Lafti

Krishnammal, a wonderful woman who runs Lafti, has helped secure close to 1061 acres to landless women in India. She has now asked me and others for help with seeds for the women to sow in their lands. The rains are very nearly there and the lands need to be cultivated in less than 10 days. I need your support in helping them.


Here's what I propose to do. Virtual Coffee Mornings. It's really quite simple. To participate, you need to place a little coffee mug next to your computer. Every day for the next week or so, I'll be posting various little contests. And each time you take part, you drop some small change into the mug. And at the end of the week, you count it all up and send it to Krishnammal in India. Their bank details are

Name of the Bank : Federal Bank
Address : Thanjavur, Tamilnadu, India
Swift Code : FDRL – INBB – IBD
To the Credit of Krishnammal Jegannathan
Account Number : SB 5559

You could send your cheques, drawn in favour of Krishnammal Jegannathan to:

LAFTI
Vinoba Ashram
Kuthur
Nagapattinam district
Tamil Nadu.
INDIA
PINCODE 611 105.

You may reach them at 00914366-275443 and 275540. E-mail: laftitngsm@yahoo.co.in

Krishnammal's extraordinary life story can be found here. Details of the organisation she helps run can be found here.

Why not hold your own Coffee Mornings on your blog? If you do, then please alert me at ammania@gmail.com so I may link to you. Thank you.

Seeds

Krishnammal


A most inspiring lady. I got an email from her today asking for help. Not for her. But for some other women. Who need money to buy seeds. The rains have come but they have nothing to sow on their lands. Would you help me? she pleads. She shouldn't be pleading. She's very old and worked very hard for much of her life for others. I have some friends, I told her. May be together, we can do something. But there's only 10 days before they have to start cultivation, she stresses. I'll see what we can do, I say.





The cost of seeds per acre is Rs.500/- (10 Euros). With a 100 Euros, 10 landless women will be benefited. Any contribution, however small, will be most welcome. The bank details are



Name of the Bank : Federal Bank
Address : Thanjavur, Tamilnadu, India
Swift Code : FDRL – INBB – IBD
To the Credit of Krishnammal Jagannathan
Account Number : SB 5559

If you wish to send cheques, please draw them in favour of Krishnammal Jegannathan and send them to:

LAFTI

Vinoba Ashram

Kuthur

Nagapattinam district

Tamil Nadu

INDIA

PINCODE 611 105

You may reach them at 00914366-275443 and 275540. E-mail: laftitngsm@yahoo.co.in

Krishnammal's story is here. Details of the organisation she runs can be found here.

p.s. I will soon be running a fundraising effort of some sort. Once I figure out what. Meanwhile, if you have an idea, then please write to me at ammania@gmail.com Thank you!

New kid on the blog

Blogeswari

Memories of food

Maggi

We had Maggi for dinner last night. I bet every Indian of a certain generation (ahem!) has a Maggi story to tell. It could be about a cousin who loved to eat raw Maggi or that cute child next door who resembled the Maggi girl from that 2-minute noodles advert. I remember when it was first launched in India. We were all given free samples at school and I brought mine home (my brother had eaten his share raw during lunch break). My mother demanded if it was vegetarian. If I was sure, absolutely, 100% certain and only after I had sworn on my sister’s life (better hers than mine!) she let it inside the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, the pack was opened, examined, its contents sniffed, inspected, held up against the sunlight and even passed through the x-ray machine. Finally, when it had cleared all of Pattu maami's stringent and demanding tests satisfactorily, the green signal was given. There was a tremendous sense of occasion as we watched Gomathy mami heat up a vaanali, pour a generous ladle of oil and throw in some mustard seeds, ulutham paruppu and kariveppilai. A minute later, finely chopped onions were added and sautéed. She poured some water, covered the pot and let it come to a boil. She paused for a moment debating whether or not to touch the offending noodles with her bare hands. She closed her eyes and sought pardon from the gods for what she was about to do. Then slid her hands inside the pack, brought out the brittle noodles and dropped them gingerly into the pot. You’d have thought we were at a Michael Jackson concert the way we jostled for a vantage point from which to view the noodles being cooked. They squiggled and wriggled and swam in the sauce. I was no longer sure that it wasn’t meat and looked at my sister on whose life I had sworn that it was vegetarian. She was alive and that could only mean I was right. I was relieved and returned my attention to where the action was.

Gomathy mami had turned off the hob and had spooned out the noodles into our quiveringly held plates. I scooped a spoonful and stuck a slippery eel of a noodle cluster into my mouth. The strings of noodles dangling outside my mouth were expertly sucked in. And this soon caught on as we each picked up a noodle strand and vacuumed them in. Gomathy mami and the rest of the household watched on with horrified fascination. How does it taste? Is it soft to the bite? What does it feel like as it worms its way down your throat? they demanded to know. But our vocabulary was not yet fully developed to descibe the wonders of instant noodles. So we nodded our heads and said that it was delicious.

Soon thereafter Maggi became a regular in the household and a few years later, I started cooking it myself. Often making inspired variations. Like adding a spoonful of sambar or eating it with mango pickle. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it flopped miserably. But for the first time, I found confidence in my cooking and realised that I wasn’t fussy when it came to food and was willing to try different combinations.

Last night’s dinner was delicious. Perhaps it was the addition of tender vegetables to the usual. Perhaps it was the Maggi stories we were sharing across the table. I cannot tell.

Cross-posted here

Collectibles 3

Next lot! As ever, I ask a question and you post your answer in the comment box. Try and keep them honest.

3. Which item of your household do you misplace most often and swear to remember where you put them the next time?

Collectibles 2

My question and your honest answer. We collect them.

2. When was the last time you said to yourself 'God, I'm turning into my parent!'.

Please post answers in the comment box. Thank you!

A quick tale 193

My aunt has diabetes

You see, that's the trouble with people you know slightly. Those you know well, you can sit and talk for hours. And those who are strangers, you can ignore completely. But those inbetween, the ones you sort-of know, as a passing acquaintance, they are the ones who are most difficult to handle. And I was stuck with one such on a train journey.

She was my aunt's neighbour and I had met her a couple of times before. Very very briefly. But no sooner had I settled down in my seat than she started wondering aloud where she knew me from. Once we had established our route to acquaintanceship, we then carried on talking about our mutual link. My aunt. After I had told her about my aunt's recent widowhood (at which she tutted duly) and her ongoing struggle with diabetes and weight (more tutting), there was little to do. So I asked her about her family and if she had any aunts that I may have lived next door to. Now there was even less to discuss. We fell into a merciful though somewhat awkward silence.

Later when she bought coffee from the vendor, she offered to buy me a cup. I said I didn't drink tea or coffee. And when I brought out my lunch packet, I offered to share it with her. It appeared she had already had her lunch. More silence ensued during which I wondered what to talk about next. I asked her if she had seen the latest blockbuster movie. It seems she didn't watch movies. She wondered if I listened to classical music. Only movie songs, I replied. After enquiring about interests in cricket and politics, I realised we had exhausted all possible topics of civil conversation. Religion was too personal and I didn't know her well enough to enquire if she had any illnesses she would like to discuss.

Our ordeal came to an end when the train reached its destination half-an-hour later. Finally, as we got off the train, I insisted that we stay in touch. I gave her my number and she duly took it down. My number had an extra '0' in it and she jotted it on piece of scrap paper.

Absurbia 3

Dog in the cricket ground
God doing the ticket rounds
Man is not allowed.
But you've let a dog. Into the cricket ground.


Nonsense, I know. Post your silly version in the comment box. Anything goes, really.

A quick tale 192

When something bright caught his eye

This is the story of a man who is out one morning on a leisurely jog. Now, at first glance he is not the sort of man who is likely to be out jogging. Or indeed the second or the third glance. Which is why, the man is out-of-breath five or six minutes into his jog and he leans against a pillar to regain his breath. Which is when it catches his eye. Something small and shiny and no bigger than a coin. Which indeed it was. A 5p coin. His lucky penny. With somewhat considerable effort, the man bends down and picked the coin up. This is a sign, he's convinced. Why else would it reveal itself to him? There must be a reason why he stopped mid-jog at that precise spot. And that reason is nestled in his plump palm. May be the coin meant that he would bag the order that was pending for a month. Perhaps that bargain plasma tv that he was bidding for on ebay would be his. His mind is buzzing with possibilities when it occurs to him that he was already quite lucky. A wonderful family, two holidays a year, regular pay rises, a mortgage that will be paid off in 6 short years. In fact, except for a mild case of alopecia and that bit of extra weight he was carrying around his stomach, he has very few complaints. The man hated it when such perfectly reasonable thoughts interrupt his mild euphoria (he was the kind of person who, for no apparent reason, remembered dying children in Darfur while watching Lewis Hamilton celebrate at the podium). So with a sigh the man tosses the coin back into dusty sidewalk. For someone less lucky to find it. He just hopes they weren't bidding for the same plasma tv.

Collectibles

Yet another new series! Here's how this one works. I ask a question and you write in with your honest answer. And we make a collection of it. May be even move it to its own blog. Okay, here goes.

1. When do you go, 'How many times have I told him/her? When will this man/woman ever learn?'

A quick tale 191

This morning at breakfast

You will not believe it, but she has been thinking about it since Tuesday evening. In fact, shortly before you came home from work that day and just after the kids had finished their homework, she went into the kitchen to soak the lentils. And just after the dinner table was cleared, she had second thoughts about the amount of rice in the mixture and added quarter-of-a-cup more. The next morning, she went in to see if the pulses had soaked though and as soon as you were out of the house, she drained the water and ground the lentils and rice to a soft paste. This was not easy as the blade in the grinder had gone blunt. So she poured the batter back into a pot and unscrewed the blade from the grinder and replaced it with the spare one. This time the batter turned out smooth with no lumps or bumps. Satisfied with the result, she left the pot in the far corner of the kitchen to ferment.

This morning, she woke up 20 minutes before her usual time to get the accompanying chutneys ready for breakfast. The results are there in front of you. Steaming hot and straight off the pan. You wolf it down as you skim through the newspaper. I know you're pre-occupied with that client meeting this morning. But before you go, tell her that it was really nice. She will probably dismiss it with a wave of a hand. But after you're gone, she'll break into a smile. Brighter than the morning sun.

A quick tale 190

When you started eyeing her bags

Can you keep an eye on my bags while I nip to the loo?, she asks you as she squiggles her way across the crowded compartment. You have barely known each other for ten minutes. You helped her haul her luggage into the train compartment. She thanked you and then settled into her seat across from you. She asked you where you were headed and then confirmed that that was her destination as well. That's how far your acquaintance has been with this woman. And now she wants you to look after her bag. You've got that kind of a face. One that readily evokes trust in people. In the past you have been given house keys by your neighbours and been asked to water the plants or to feed the budgies while they were away on holiday. The plants always died and the budgies invariably 'eaten' by cats. And some odd trinket from here and there went missing. Which of course, no one really noticed.

The woman has been gone for less than a minute when you start surveying her bags. From where you are sitting, you can only see them partially. There are three bags in varying sizes. The large one is tucked way back under the seat and the two smaller ones sit flanked on either side. Your eye falls on the small red bag on the right. It looks promising. The bulge in the middle seems to suggest that it contains something of worth. Perhaps a gift. May be something electronic. You only have to pretend to drop something on the floor and grab the bag as you gather your stuff. It will be over in a blink and no one will suspect anything. The question then is, what will you do with it? You cannot jump out of a running train. But if you wait till the next station, you risk running into the owner. The down side to the plan is that there's every chance that the contents will turn out to be a dud. What if the bag contains besan ladoo or something? You'd have risked life and limb for flour balls.

While such conflicting thoughts criss-cross your mind, the lady returns from the loo. She thanks you for safe-guarding her possessions and proceeds to settle down in her seat. And that's when it hits you. It has nothing to do with trust. Your abject inability to carry out a simple theft could well have been tattooed on your face. Presently, she bends down, reaches for the red bag and asks you if you'd like something to eat. You politely refuse her offer and watch her as she opens the bag and bring out a box full of ladoos.

Absurbia 2

A story in 3 acts

At first,
Dirty shoes
Clean carpet.

And then,
Dirty carpet
Clean shoes.

But finally,
Dirty carpet
Dirty shoes.

Write your own absurbious entry based on the photo above. Caption, poem, story, recipe...anything goes. Post it in the comment box. Thank you!

Absurbia

dead bird in the garden
bed gird on the bar den
ban turd in durban
bad turn in turban


Perhaps another new series. Send me your take on the photo above. Anything goes. Just post it in the comment box. Thanks!

Is this a tale?

Perhaps a new series
- a

In my bag. Two ball-point pens. A greeting card with no message written on it. Instructions for an mp3 player. Four CDs. Bills from lunch time. Parking permit to the gym. A notepad with phone numbers but no names. A slew of business cards. Hairbrush. A jingle of keys. Anti-histamine tablets. Lipstick past its expiry date. Two chewing gums. Train ticket from last Saturday. Sanitary napkin. And a mobile phone. With a missed call. From you.

Not another quick tale

I don't know why I was thinking about you today. Your birthday is only in November. And that day is not until August. It must be because of the song I was listening to. Not the one with your name. But the one that we used to sing together. The one that you would sing hopelessly off-key. The one I teased you so badly about. And that was not the only thing I used to tease you about. The way you used to stutter mildly before each sentence. The way you scratched your head often. The way your hair curled into tight rings. Just about everything was a reason to taunt.

How could I forget that day when we went to the beach and I demanded that you return the dress you were wearing because it belonged to me? Yes, right then and there. I wanted my dress back. And yet, you kept your head about you. You just ignored me like you always did. And that infuriated me even more. I tugged and pulled at the dress. You continued to ignore me. How I tortured you! That I was only 8 or 9 years old then was no excuse. Looking back I'm shocked at how my behaviour was allowed to go on.

Luckily, you didn't have to suffer me for too long. And after a couple of years with us, you went back to living with your parents - my aunt and uncle - in that remote northern town. And we met only during holidays. Until that year, when we were both 16 years old. I still remember being woken up in the middle of the night and being asked to pray. You had contracted meningitis and were in a critical condition in the hospital. And collective prayers alone could save you. Sadly that was not enough and you succumbed to the disease. After that, whenever I saw your mother, I was weighed down with inexplicable guilt. She would see me and burst into tears. You too would have been going to college. You too would have started working. And like my mother, she too would have been looking out for a suitable groom for her daughter. I was a constant reminder of the life that her daughter was so cruelly denied.

But the real reason I'm writing to you is because I'm a mother now and I fear for my child. You know what they say about the sins of the parents coming back to haunt their kids. And I often worry that there's a bully waiting to get my son.

I know I didn't say it when it mattered. But I'm saying it now. I'm sorry for what I did. I really am.

A quick tale 189

When your lower lip was quivering.

No, don't. I didn't know how to say it over the phone. But now you're here, sitting in front of me, looking into your coffee mug, and wiping your tears, pretending as if dust has fallen into your eyes. I get the feeling that I have to say it now or I will never get a chance. You see, you called me up this afternoon and asked me if we could meet. We don't know each other that well and frankly, I was surprised to hear from you. I wanted to excuse myself but your voice sounded distraught and I heard myself agreeing.

I look at you, sitting across from me and I don't like the way things are looking. I get the feeling that you're just about confide in me. No, please don't. Your lower lip is quivering. I know you're just going over the words in your mind. Rehearsing your secret. Soon, you will blurt it out. Something from a dark past. May be something sexual. Perhaps something that happened to you as a kid. I can feel it. You're just about to burden me with your secret. Something I can then never get rid of. I will immediately become a member of your close circle. And you will expect me to tell you all that is troubling my heart. All my embarrassing illnesses.

What I'm about to say may shock you, you begin. Oh dear. Thankfully, my phone goes off. It's my office. They want me back urgently regarding a report that is due on Friday. I get up, my coffee barely sipped. I have to go, I tell you. Disappointment spills out of your eyes. I grab your hands and promise to call later. As I walk away, I look back at you. I'm sorry, I say. Even if you can't hear it.

A quick tale 188

One day on the train to Bangalore

She must be no older than 18. Or 20, at the most. Her eyes are slumped into a hollow, her cheeks tired and shallow. The child on her waist is perhaps too wasted to even cry. You spot her in the far corner as she makes her way across the train carriage holding her hand out for some spare change. You can never decide whether or not to tip beggars. Sometimes you feel guilty and drop a few coins into the outstretched palm and quickly look away. On other days you remember the article in India Today that talked about organised criminal networks behind the begging mafia. You look up at her and note that she is fast approaching you. You don't have long to make up your mind. She could be your daughter. Heck, she could have been you but for a quirk of fate. But then again, she is young, she is able-bodied. Surely, she could find some respectable work. Or perhaps, she is forced into begging by her drunkard husband. Who may beat her tonight if she doesn't bring home enough. So then, why doesn't she leave him and fend for herself? Surely, it cannot be worse than suffering an abusive husband. But if she did, she would become poor and destitute. At least now, she has a man to call her own.

She is standing in front of you now. Her palm upturned. Pleading with you to find a few coins in your pocket. You don't raise your eyes. Your nose is buried in the book in your hand. The man next to you drops some small change. You hear them clink as she moves away. You feel a pair of eyes boring into you. As if to say, how heartless can you be? I'm a kind and generous person, you want to scream. You should see me when elderly beggars approac. But instead, you immerse yourself in the pages. You wish the novel was deeply engrossing.

A quick tale 187

Same song

I had forgotten all about 'us'. The heady giddiness of our love. And all that. Until this morning when I heard 'our' song. A song we had simply claimed ours because it suited our mood, our season. I marvelled at how dramatic we had been in our proclamations. I wondered, just fleetingly, if you ever heard the song and remembered me. May be as you tuned the radio on your way to work one morning. As the last strains of the song seeped in, do you pause before you start the car? Do you raise your eyebrows like you used to and shake your head as you recalled those days? Do you close your eyes, rest your head on the steering wheel and wonder, just briefly, where I might be? Or if I have tuned into the same station, perhaps?

A quick tale 186

When her steely resolve melted

She can remember the last time it happened. 20th August 2001. It was exactly two days before she found out about calories and suchlike. Ever since she learnt that she would have to powerwalk for 35 minutes to burn the calories from one vadai, she hasn't touched one. Of course, she has the odd bite (more like a smidgen of a crumb of a bite) every now and then. But straightaway she would start to walk furiously until she was satisfied that the offending crumb had been sweated off. And her body had been restored to its pre-vadai caloric state.

That was until today when she visited her sister-in-law who, as it often happens in stories likes this, was frying masal vadais for tiffin. Go on, have one, urged the sister-in-law, as she placed a plate of deliciously golden vadais in front of her. You can always exercise later, she suggested. Under such compulsion, our lady's steely resolve melted and she found herself biting into a vadai. It was as if the years of denial had finally taken their toll and the floodgates burst open. Before she knew it, she was having a second, a third, a fourth...she had cleaned out a plateful of vadais. Two thousand eight hundred calories in all! She would have to run for seven hours non-stop to burn off all the calories. And that was never going to happen. She thought about it for a moment, let out a long burp, patted her stomach and asked her host if she had some sambar to wash down the vadais.

Pics by kids

Please go to www.picsbykids.blogspot.com to check out some wonderful photos by little people. You could join in the fun too. Just give your little one a camera and get him/her to click photos of things or places they like. Then send five of those photos to me at ammania@gmail.com including their name and age.
Get clicking.

A quick tale 185

When her knees buckled and she sat down on the pavement

Finally, all it took was a jar of mango pickle. Let me take you back eight months. To when she first received news of her admission to that university abroad. Boy, was she thrilled! To be rid of this claustrophobic society. And its insanely archaic rules for women. She was no longer answerable to anyone. She could do as she pleased. Wear what she wanted. Go where she wished. And if she was lucky, she would even find a man. Fall in love. Kiss him in public. No more worrying about her dad finding out. No more lying about 'combined studies' at her best friend's house. A vision of paradise rolled out in front of her. And she could barely wait to get started.

She cheerfully waved them goodbye. Sentimental fools. Look at them waving back while wiping their noses on their sleeves. And just like that, she was away. The new country was everything she had dreamed of. The stubbornly huge cars, the aching tall buildings, the painfully polite people. Would she wake up one day and find the whole thing a dream? she often wondered. Until one day, as she walked back from class, when she saw displayed on the shelf of a grocery store, a jar of mango pickle. Her knees gave away. She sat down on the pavement and started to weep quietly

A quick tale 184

We hugged and he let go

His bags were packed and weighed. Passport? Yes. Tickets? Yes. I didn't want to go to the airport. What is the point of protracted goodbyes? He came to me. We hugged. He let go. Call me when you've reached. I will. He stood there just looking at me. A tiredness crept into my eyes. I just wanted him to leave. When will I see you again? He smiled a sad smile. I thought I had asked the question in my head. We both knew the answer to that question.

A quick tale 183

Delusion

You are a self-confessed atheist, I know. At first, it was a cool thing to be. I'm an atheist, you told a baffled aunt when she offered you prasadam from Tirupati. You laughed as she shook her head in weak disapproval. Them and their stupid belief in God. You wouldn't even write it that way. With a capital 'g'. Them and their stupid belief in god. You spent hours gathering evidence to support your claim. You surrounded yourselves with fellow atheists. And found a new faith in collective conviction.

Until one day, in a crowded market when, without your realising how, she slips out of your grasp. You look down and she's gone. Just like that, melted away. Your eyes dart furtively, scanning the milling crowds for that familiar shape who has come to dominate your life the past three years. With every passing second, your mind grows crowded with stories of kidnapped and tortured children. Of kids who were sold to Arab sheikhs for camel racing. Of those who were mutilated and forced to beg, to prostitute. And just then, you remember the powers you had long disregarded. Please bring her back to me, you plead in desperation. Please. Those frantic moments come to an abrupt end when a small, damp hand clasps your fingers. You collapse with relief. You tell yourself it was just a delusion. Yes, a brief delusion in a moment of dire need. Nothing more.

Pics By Kids

A new initiative. Head here to see what it is.

Talk Talk 4

 

A less than enthusiastic response. TCC's dialogue, however, was hilarious. So, here's a photo that he may be familiar with. Two adults and a kid are standing under this bus shelter. The woman has a plastic bag in her hand which she seems to be pointing to while talking to the man. What are they discussing?

London Marathon 2007

This year at the London Marathon was vastly different to my last experience at the 26.2 mile race. I was cheering from the sidelines this time. Here's some of what I saw.

Talk Talk 3

A change from the usual. Two people are standing below this board. You see that they are deep in conversation. What are they saying? Please keep your dialogues short and post them in the comment box. Thank you.

Talk Talk 2

Great responses. Ahiri's and Itchingtowrite's (second) comments stood out for me. Here's the next lot of dialogue. Who's saying this to whom and where? If you have to write a story explaining the context, then please do so. Include the lines if you need to.

"Aghanistan is twice the size of Iraq and has half the people"
"15 years and look what I get!"

Look forward to your responses. Please keep them short and post them in the comment box. Thank you.

Talk Talk

Time for a new series. Here's how it works. I give you some dialogue and you need to tell me who is talking and what the conversation is about. If you need to weave that into your story, then [;ease do so. As ever, post your stories in the comment box and please try to keep them short. Let's see how this goes.

"Which would you prefer? A six or a nine?"
"Which would you reccomend?"
"A nine."
"I was thinking of a six."
"I insist on a nine."
"How about a compromise?"
"No. Nine!"
"Fine."

A quick tale 182

On why she limps

When Sarasa was five or so, she came home from school one day complaining of fever. It only lasted five or six days but every waking hour was hell. Sarasa would weep from unbearable muscle pain. Her recovery was gradual and the fever left her with a permanent limp. Suseela, Easwari and Kannan were born in quick succession in the years following and Sarasa's limp became a fact of life. When she was 18, Sarasa married Chockalingam who was hard of hearing. It was felt that one disability deserved another. These days Sarasa works at the family planning centre in Nagoor. Last week, while climbing down the stairs, she misjudged the last step and tripped, twisting her ankle and tearing a ligament in the process. Her foot is now bandaged and Sarasa walks with the aid of a crutch. Her wince is genuine but her limp is exaggerated. So that the one or two people who will see Sarasa today for the first time will think that the fall has caused her to limp.

A quick tale 181

One cloudy Tuesday afternoon on the motorway

The car splutters, wheezes, coughs and despite fervent prayers to your favourite gods, dies on you. You were lucky enough to be on the outside lane and you somehow manoeuvre your way to the hard shoulder. What’s the instruction in such instances? Stay in car? Or get out as quickly as you can? Where’s the AA card? Oh yes, you never renewed the breakdown cover after it expired unused last January. Damn. At least the kids are not crying. Not yet anyway. Should you call the police? Where’s the mobile? Thank god, there’s plenty of battery left in it. But is there enough credit to make a call? Why does it have to happen today? Why can’t you crawl back to being a kid? And not be in charge of everything?

Like that time when the train broke down and they said that it would take a whole day to resume the journey. You were stranded in the middle of nowhere. And there was only enough food and water left for a couple of hours. There were rumours about bandits attacking the train at night. You saw your father close to tears for the first time ever. But all that mattered to you was playing Antakshari with your sister and fighting over comic books. Your parents would sort troubles out. That’s what adults were there for. Presently, you hear a fight breaking out in the back seat. And you hear yourself mutter, ‘Now, now, don’t start, the two of you. Amma’s gonna take care of everything’.

A quick tale 180

You shouldn't have

Am I okay? Yes, yes, I'm fine. It's just that am not used to such extravagant gifts. It's a lovely chain, yes is it, pure 22 carat gold it says on the box. But did you really have to buy this for me now? What with the price of gold these days, it must have cost you a fortune. You have children of your own now. That too daughters. You should be saving for them. There will be school and college fees to pay for and weddings to celebrate and hospital bills to foot. You shouldn't be spending money on your old mother. There's that loan on your house. Plus your wife has just quit her job. What was the need to buy me such an expensive present? Haven't you bought me enough already? You could've done something else with it. You could've put the money in a fixed deposit or something. It would've earned you some interest atleast. What good will come of it hanging around my neck like this? Yes, I am happy. Yes, I am thankful. Yes, I too wish I could stop feeling guilty all the time and enjoy something just for once. But still, you really shouldn't have...

A quick tale 179

Two ps and an o

Funny how it all comes back. Mrs S. English lesson. Eighth standard. Opurtunity. Yes, like that. With one p and an u. She made you write the word over and over again. And the whole class laughed at you. After all these years, here you are writing a thank you note to a friend for the dinner last night. Please give us an opurtunity to reciprocate your hospitality, you type and it rushes back to you like it happened yesterday. You spend the next few minutes staring at the screen. And quietly, very quietly you click the send button. Before allowing yourself a little smile.

A quick tale 178

One evening, around 6 pm

It’s her height that grabs your attention. Else, how would you notice her among the crowd waiting to cross the road? The traffic light in front of you turns red and you smooth to a halt. She steps on to the road from the pavement. Her posture is erect, just like you remember it. When she looks in your direction to check for oncoming traffic, you see the same severe expression on her face that you recall from all those PE lessons, way back in high school. What a terror she used to be back then. Making you run laps around the track while she stood in the middle sipping coffee. I have eyes in the back of my head, she would threaten. And you sincerely believed it. She is just about to take another step when a bicycle comes speeding past her. Causing her to lose composure and retreat swiftly back to the pavement. She decides to wait for a quieter moment to cross the road. The lights turn green and you gradually pull away. As you drive past her, you notice that she is shaken. Just another frail old lady waiting to cross the road. How you wish the illusion had not been shattered.

A quick tale 177

Inspired by these two hilarious posts.
-a

On going to see Tripurasundari

My dear Tripurasundari,

That was silly of me, I admit. Turning you down because of your name. Wondering how the immigration official will mangle its exquisite multiple syllables. Worrying if I'll ever find a satisfactory nick name for you. How could I have been so blind, O beautiful goddess?

You know, I haven't stopped thinking about you ever since I came away from your house. Everyday when the weathergirl on tv mutters 'rains in Assam, Meghalaya and Tripura...', guess who I wish was sitting next to me, sharing my rasam sadam? You, my fair Madrasi chick!

I am 38 and still single. Every Vanitha and Sunitha I said yes to didn't wish to marry me. I have excellent credentials and an unblemished past. So if you are still available, may I invite you to a fine cup of filter coffee at Mylai Karpaga Vilas? They also serve excellent keerai vadai there.

Please don't say no.

Yours,

Vaidyanathan

A quick tale 176

Shopping for sarees during a sudden downpour

Do you have this, you ask pointing to the deep blue saree in your hand, in light green or baby blue? The saleswoman nods yes, draws a stool, climbs up, reaches into the top shelf and pulls out two sarees. One is light green and the other baby blue. She hands them to you and you look from one to the other. Unable to decide, you put down both sarees on the counter, on top of the 32 others you have been looking at over the past half-an-hour. You take a step back and inspect the colourful mound. You sigh frustratedly and then with your eyes closed, you pull one out from the bottom of the pile. It's yellow with purple flowers on it. You hand it to the saleswoman and say, I'll take that one. My wife will like anything I gift her. Five minutes later you walk out of the store with a saree you don't need, for a wife you don't have. And it has finally stopped raining.

A quick tale 175

When your knees were a bloody mess

I often say, no regrets. That's a lie. I wish I had met you earlier, in your growing years. When you wore your hair long and your trousers short. The time when you took your bicycle to the playground and came home walking, having forgotten that you had taken it. Or the time when you jumped into a ditch to retrieve a ball and came out with your calves and knees in a bloody mess. How I wish I had been there to wrestle with you and race you to the finish every time. All those adolescent nights you spent debating the mysteries of life and such like. I wish I had been part of your gang, wide awake with excitement and possibilities. And the time when you lost that man you loved, respected and adored. I wish I had been there to hold your hand. But I'm glad I met you when I did. Happy birthday, mister. There's no one else I'd rather wake up with.

A quick tale 174

Why you are ringing your son at this time of the day

Do you your remember that day when you told him, 'Not now. I'll buy you one on the way back'? It was a hot, sticky afternoon and the ice-cream cart was parked in the middle of the road. The little one had asked you for a cone when you made the promise. But on your return you took a different route and forgot all about the ice-cream. Today, as you went past the same road, you recalled your words from that day, all those years ago. You take out mobile and dial the 14 digits that make up his number. You just want to hear the lilting familiarity of his voice. And be reminded of the days when his palm was small enough to fit into yours. And he made quiet demands of you.

A quick tale 173

Cars are colliding on my stomach

Right now, your toy cars are cruising on my arms, my chest, my legs. The landscape of my body shaping your imagination. I wince as one of your cars collides with another on my stomach. Uh-oh, an accident, you proclaim before proceeding to summon a crack team of autorickshaws to the rescue. I lie back and watch you play. Who taught you these games? How do you know the difference between a Polo and a Mini? When did you learn to change your voice when you speak for the cars? You've abandoned your game now and have gone on to something else. Tomorrow morning you won't remember any of this. A year down the line, you may not even be playing with cars. A decade from now, you will positively recoil at the mention of your childhood stories. And one day, when you are grown up, I will tell her about how you raced cars on my body. She will nod in polite courtesy. And you will stand next to her with that familiar look of boredom and beg me to stop. You're just like your father, I'll tell you then. Just like your grandmother did to me.

A quick tale 172

Today as I sipped my coffee

I don't know how long they have been sitting there. The plate in front of him is empty and he is waiting for her to finish. He does not drum his fingers or click his tongue impatiently. He stares into the vacant distance. Her head is bent and her eyes focussed on what she is eating. Once she is done, she places the spoon on the plate, sips water from her glass, wipes her mouth with a handkerchief and looks up at him. He raises his hand signals to the waiter. A short while later, small porcelain plate with a flapping piece of paper is placed between them. He leans to one side and brings out a wallet from his back pocket. He counts and recounts the money before sliding it on the plate. They get up and leave. All the while I was watching them not a word was exchanged. It was as if conversation between them had dried up a long time ago. And neither one had noticed.

A quick tale 171

Shirts, skirts, socks

In the far corner of her cupboard there is a shaggy pile of clothes that have remained untouched for years. Shirts and skirts and socks that have settled so well into their folds that it is no longer possible to iron them out. They will never be worn again. Now that their wearers have grown and gone. Their once small hands now too large to slide down the hollow of the sleeves. Their bodies too big to be contained in tiny frocks. But she guards her little pile fiercely. And on days when she fears she is losing her grip on her memory, she buries her face in it. Mingled with the moth balls is the faint scent of her children. From the time when they needed her more.

A quick tale 170

Overheard

"She's 28. There must be a reason why she's not married yet. "

"Left-handed."

"Short-hair."

"But he said that she used to speak a lot with a guy from Account's Department."

"Yes, agreed. But can she cook?"

"Don't want anyone too ambitious."

"Too educated."

"Only a graduate."

"A bit on the heavy side, don't you think?"

"Her grandmother has some skin disease, did you see?"

A quick tale 169

In a cafe next to your office

She finds herself sitting in a table full of strangers who are discussing the relative merits of PJ Harvey's songs. Winsome, awesome, terrific, soporific are some of the adjectives bandied about. She, on the other hand, has developed a sudden interest in her shoes and nails. During a lull in the conversation, she is suddenly gripped with an urge to say something. She could have said "exceptionally pulsating with energy". But instead says, "I tried listening to her CD once. And it was horrible. Painful, actually". Her utterance is greeted with stunned silence and then one or two heads nod in tentative agreement. How she wishes she had done this earlier.

A quick tale 168

This morning at 11 am

In that superstore on that busy road lined with trees, one particular skin cream is selling fast. The woman in front of her has just bought two jars. And why not? The cream promises to reduce scars, fine lines and wrinkles by 40%. Perhaps using two jars' worth may wipe out twice as many lines and half-way through the third, the skin will be smooth as a baby's bottom. She picks up a jar and looks at the photo on the packaging. I am rich, successful, happy, the jar-woman seemed to say. I am also debt and wrinkle-free. The jar holds out such promise, such hope that she turns around and grabs another one. She rushes home and runs to the mirror. Her fingers dig out a small mountain of the cool pomade. She lifts the sleeve of her blouse and spreads it on her bruises. Any moment now, her life will change.

A quick tale 167

Envy

You and I, we're about the same age. I'm older than you by a few months. But how different are our lives! Your photo graces the cover of every other magazine. And me, I'm the kind that reads the magazines while waiting at the school gate for my children to return. My body has borne the scars of two childbirths. My skin is sallow and my boobs resemble used tea bags. You on the other hand, look stunning. Everything about you is pert and taut and pointing north. You are every schoolboy's fantasy.

But someday all of this will go. You will struggle to retain your looks as it slips through your splayed fingers like fine sand. You will languish for hours in front of the mirror dreading the arrival of a new crinkle, a new crease. You will spend an inordinate amount of time fighting it. You will seek help surgically, pharmaceutically, therapeutically. But eventually, you will succumb. What a rude shock that will be!

And one such day I'll open a magazine and inside it, I'll find a photo of you. Wrinkled, looking more your age. And I will smile at the little caption at the bottom.'Former Beauty Queen'.

A quick tale 166

Aged 76

Don't listen to what they say. They have no clue how good this makes me feel. Ignore your mother. For what does she know? I know people think it's odd that you should address me by my first name. But what's their problem if I'm fine with it? You see, when you get to my age, there are few people left to call you by name. Just the other day I met a friend of your mother's. And she introduced me to her husband as 'So-&-So's Amma'. I don't think she even knew my name. I'm sure there are a whole lot of others to whom I'm just 'Mrs So-&-So' or 'Such-&-Such Aunty' or 'This-or-That Paati'. Sometimes I long to be just me. I yearn to hear my name called out. Like my mother used to. When she wanted me to come inside because it was getting dark. Like my father would when came home from work and didn't find me rushing to greet him. Like your grandfather did when he wrote all those wonderful letters to me, all those years ago. You, my child, take me back to the time when I too was a young girl. And everybody knew my name.

A quick tale 165

Guilt

It's depressing if you think about it. This chunk of cake in my hand has about 225 calories. I need to run for 30 minutes on the treadmill at 6 miles per hour to work it off. I could have chosen an apple for dessert but I had to pick this one. And a large piece at that. I look down on it and see that I've already chomped my way through half the slice. I go to the kitchen and I cut out an even larger piece. I offer it to you. Your eyes are glued to the TV screen and you take the plate from me without so much as a glance in my direction. From the corner of my eyes, I watch you eat it. I wait till you have finished your cake. And then I take bite from my own. It tastes much better already.

A quick tale 164

Morning Story

From where you are you can hear muffled talk next door. The kids are up, you note. The older one giggles. You smile. She's just like her father. Somewhere in the house a door opens. Milk, you tell yourself. Soon you will have to be up and pursue the various strands of domestic activity. You'll have to get hold of the plumber today and fix the dripping tap. It has been leaking for far too long. You have also got to remember to pay the electricity bill. Which brings to mind, where did you note down the reading from the last quarter? The kids will have to be woken up, dressed, fed and dropped off at school. After that you have to do some grocery shopping. You are running low on cooking oil and rice. On your way back, you must remember to stop by at the old neighbour's house and enquire about his well-being. It's been a week since you found out that he fell down and broke his ankle. But you cannot spend too much time there and you'll have to excuse yourself pretty soon. Today's Thursday and tomorrow is the last day to send in the application that you have barely started filling in. And in case it needs to be written in black ink, you have to remember to buy some black pens when you are out in the market. But for the moment, you lie back in bed, savouring the last vestiges of sleep. Your day is about to begin shortly.

A quick tale 163

Hello, hello

You are in the shower after a long day at work. The phone rings. Let it ring, you think. Let that damn thing ring. Five trings and the phone stops. You start to wonder who it might have been. You look at the clock. It’s half past nine in the evening. Who would have wanted to speak to you at this late? Could it have been the boss? No, he’d have used the mobile. Your best friend perhaps? No, she’s out of town. Was it your mother? Possibly, yes. May be she wanted to speak to you urgently. Why? What could have happened? Is she ill? Did she fall down the stairs? Did she break an arm? Did she feel a shooting pain down the left side of her body and reach for the phone to call her daughter who was too busy relaxing to answer her desperate call for help? Thoughts are racing through your head when the phone goes off again. You dart out of the bathroom and lunge for the receiver. It’s a telemarketer. Would you like a new credit card?, he asks. At least mum’s alright, you think. Sure, you answer, but let me get myself a towel first.

A quick tale 162

Sun TV is on Channel 56

Your daughter is sleeping in her cot at the moment. She has had a difficult morning. She was very tetchy and wouldn’t let me put her down. I had to carry her around in my arms as I went about the chores. I think she is teething. The reason I’m telling you all this is because I don’t want you to worry about her after I’ve gone back.

How funny that I should be the one reassuring you now. Do you remember how it was when I first came here? You had to teach me everything and would call me from work almost half a dozen times a day! Don’t put the metal spoon in the microwave oven. Don’t burn your incense inside the house (that will set off the smoke alarm, I now know). This is for hot water and this for cold. Sun TV on channel 56. Dial 911 for emergencies. It was like being a child again. You even had to teach me how to use the bathroom without getting the whole place wet.

At first I was worried about being left alone in your large house while the two of you were away at work. The silence was unfamiliar and overwhelming. I found myself frequently in tears. But with every passing week and with the arrival of the new born, I’ve grown accustomed to the surroundings. Days slip by quickly and I look forward to the weekends when you take me out. I get a chance to look at the country I’ve heard so much about. I’m proud of how far you’ve come my child and I love you dearly. Soon I will have to leave you. I will miss you. But I will also be happy to be back home.

Amma.

p.s. Don’t put off having a second child. Your mother is getting old. And the winter here is very painful on her knees.

Memory Crumbs 2

I remember vividly being taught to write my name. The 'r' was written like a flying bird.

Memory Crumbs

A new series. Some remembered. Some imagined. I forget which is which.
-a

The head teacher walked into our class room in the middle of a maths test. She whispered something into the teacher's ears. They both spoke in a hushed voice for a while. Our teacher kept her eyes closed and listened attentively to what was being told. Then she looked up at us and cleared her throat to get our attention. She announced, 'I'm deeply saddened to announce that our former Principal Mrs Sharma is no more. She died this morning. In her honour, the rest of the day has been declared a holiday'. I don't remember what she said next. Her voice was drowned out by the loud and somewhat inappropriate cheering of a group of students who had just been granted an unexpected day's leave.

A quick tale 161

Why not?

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter really. What’s a lottery after all? A few million quid. It would be nice to win, definitely. You can pay off the mortgage, retire early and buy a house in the countryside or something. Or if are really lucky, buy one even in the heart of the city. But let’s be honest. What chances do you really have of winning? Pitifully little. You tell yourself that as you put the ticket away to the bottom of a pile.

But then you remember all those success stories. About this couple that were neck deep in debt. And how one day they won the jackpot. You’ve heard tons of them before. You know it could never happen to you. But still, that evening when the numbers are being read out on the telly, you wish. Just for a moment. May be…

Help!

Hello!

I need the help of someone in Chennai (ideally Mylapore or close by) with access to

1. A camcorder and facility to upload some footage onto youtube

or

2. A printer and a scanner

I would need one hour of the person's time and would be grateful if he/she could spare the same. Please write to me at ammania@gmail.com if you think you can help me.

Thank you.

I ask, you write 15

After a slow start, things really picked up and a few good stories came through in response to the last question. Let's see how things go this time around.

She was born in 1940. The second of five children born to Vedaranyam Seshadri and Rajalakshmi ammal. She passed away after a brief illness in November 2006. How will Jagada be remembered?

Please keep your stories short and post them in the comment box. This might be the last question for some time, so go ahead and answer away.

I ask, you write 14

Here's a long question to start you off in the new year.

Ramanathan’s coming, said Amma not taking her eyes of her brother’s letter. On the 22nd, she added once she had finished reading. Ramu mama was Amma’s youngest brother who left for America back in the early ‘70s. You had only seen him once in your whole life and you were a toddler then. He threw you up so high in the air, Amma told you once, you hit your head against the ceiling.
What happens then?

As always, please keep the stories short and post them in the comment section. Thank you.

Veenaapponavan

Gems

This one's got a happy ending

If I had to ask you to write a story about what happened this morning, my question would be 'Why did my mother stare in disbelief when autokkaran K. Ramesh came knocking on our door today?' Let me tell you what happened. It all started last night when I took an auto home from Besant Nagar. I paid the autorickshaw driver the bargained Rs.60 and entered my parents' house. No sooner had I set the bags down than I realised that I had left my camera behind in the auto. I raced to the door but the auto had already left. We went back to Besant Nagar auto stand scanning every passing auto frantically for one that bore a 'Jesus' sticker at the top of the windscreen and a picture of MGR at the bottom. Predictably enough, we drew a blank. With little else to do, we left word at the auto stand and lodged a detailed complaint at the Mylapore police station.

At this point, I'd like to tell you a little bit about my camera. It was claimed to be the world's smallest camcorder at the time of its launch in March 2005. Its high street price, when I checked at the start of this year, was £500. It was perfect for the sort of fly-on-the-wall documentaries I was starting to make. I had bought it after much deliberation and so was understandably upset on losing it.

Which is why when Ramesh came knocking on our door this morning, my mother could scarcely believe her eyes. She followed me down to Saravana Bhavan where I had gone for breakfast. As if our reaction on receiving the news was not confirmation enough, I gave a detailed description of my camera which left Ramesh in no doubt as to who it belonged to.

He told me that a couple that had got into the auto after me had claimed the camera theirs. And that he (Ramesh) had refused to part with it as he wasn't convinced that it was. He did not budge despite repeated threats from them. He told me that he had left it at home as he didn't want to be carrying it around and risk losing it. We drove all the way to Sholinganallur where I was further confronted by his wife. If the owner has lodged a police complaint, she told me, then the police will be after us. Fortunately, there was some footage of me in the tape in the camera and I played it back to her. And she too was convinced about the ownership.

Ramesh would not accept my small token of gratitude and I had to pry open his fingers and thrust the rupee notes into his hand. Later we went to Mylapore police station to withdraw my complaint and the Inspector was full of praise for Ramesh. You should have seen him beaming, his eyes glistening with pride.

Madras autos, like the city itself, have had a lot of bad press. But incidents such as this prove that there's still plenty that is good about them.

I ask, you write 13

Lucky for some. Here's the 13th question in search of a story.

When you walked in through their door, you found them both on their hands and knees searching the floor for something. I guess you know what had happened.

As always, please keep your stories short and post them in the comment box. Thank you.

I ask, you write 12

Thank you for all your wonderful stories. On to the next question.

She turned on the tv and screamed. What did Charu see that prompted such a reaction?

Please keep your stories short and post them in the comment box. I'm off to India and updates on this blog may be sporadic. But I look forward to reading all your stories. Thank you.

I ask, you write 11

Thank you for a great variety of stories. It's truly wonderful. Time for another question and hopefully, a whole lot of answers from you.

First it was red. Then yellow. Now it's red again. Why can't Shailu make up her mind?

Good luck with the stories. Please keep them short and post them in the comment section. Thank you.

I ask, you write 10

A wonderful variety of stories in the last one. Thank you for taking part. Here's the 10th question.

Somewhere in the dark recess of that wooden cupboard, there is a photo album. And somewhere the middle of the album is a photograph of Vaijayanti. She's leaning against a tree, looking up at something and smiling. What is she looking at? When was this photo taken?

As you well know by now, please keep your stories short and post them in the comment box. Thank you.

I ask, you write 9

Thank you for all the fantastic stories and please keep them coming. Here's the next question.

It's been 14 years. But will Ananthasayanam ever get it right?

As ever, please keep your stories (Tantex or not) short and post them in the comment box. Thank you.

I ask, you write 8

Thank you for all the stories. Some truly wonderful ones in the last lot. Now for the next question.

Can you see Sarasa over there? Notice how she winces as she climbs the stairs. She's torn a ligament in her ankle. Ask her how she injured herself and she'll say something vague about tripping down the stairs and so on. But I think you know the real story.

Please keep your stories short and post them in the comment box. Thank you.

I ask, you write 7

Thanks for all your wonderful stories. Some really amazing responses (Chockalingam's from the previous lot was a gem). Onto the next question.

I don't have to tell you what you already know about Chakkrapani. So do you think he should have done what he did at the restaurant the other day?

As ever, please keep your stories short and post them in the comment section.

I ask, you write 6

Thank you all for voting. Since there haven't been that many votes polled, it should be easier to see which stories were popular. I'll leave it to you to do the counting.

Now the next question to which you write a story in explanation.

What happened last Tuesday when Rajamanickam had gone to the bank to deposit a cheque?

Again, please post your stories in the comment box and please keep them short. Thank you.

I ask you write - vote

Why not turn up the heat while the going's good? Vote for your favourite among the I ask, you write stories. Vote for the one you like among each lot by mentioning the author's name. I'll leave it till Monday or Tuesday before announcing the top four as chosen by you. Those that took part can vote too. Get voting. Thanks.

Sticky post. Scroll down for the usual.

I ask, you write 5

Great going. Thank you for participating and please don't forget to vote. Here's the next question for which you write a story in explanation.

It was the same thing every morning. Jo would slam down the alarm, turn over to the other side and go back to sleep. And invariably, she would curse herself for turning up late for work. Today however, she had a fool-proof plan. What was it?

Please post your stories in the comment section and try and keep them short. Thank you.

I ask, you write 4

Thank you all for your wonderful response so far. Here's the next question to which you write a story in explanation.

You haven't spoken to your best friend Jalajasri for nearly two years. Do you remember what caused the rift between the two of you?

Like always, please keep your stories short and post them in the comment box. Thank you.

Please scroll down for earlier questions

I ask, you write 3

This is turning out to be such fun. Here's the next question to which you write a story in explanation.

She knew he wouldn't approve. So why did Visalakshi go ahead and do it anyway?

As ever, please keep your stories short and post them in the comment box. Thank you.

Please scroll down for the earlier questions.

I ask, you write 2

Thank you for your fantastic responses to my earlier question. Here's the next one.

So what was Krishnaswami thinking when he said yes to her?

Again, please keep your stories short and post them in the comment box. Thank you.

I ask, you write

Okay, here's the idea. I ask you a question and you write a short story explaining it. Let me give you an example.

What happened when young Padmavathi was drawing water from the well to wash her clothes, early one Margazhi morning?

Annon's story

One morning when Padmavathi was drawing water from the well, she found Pettai Rowdy # 1 Govindarajulu inside the bucket! She dropped it at once and Govindarajulu went down and down and hit the bottom of the well with a Nung sound. His upper and lower teeth fused together and since then he has been fed intravenously. Pettai Rowdy # 2, Ragothaman Iyengar, who suggested this to Govindarajulu, now rules the roost.

After marrying Padmavathi, he is inviting all of you to a water drawing ceremony at the new well they dug in their house.

Jai Ragothaman Iyengar! Jai Padmavathi! Come one, Come all!

-

Here's a question for you.

What happened that made young Meenakshi change her mind about the parrot green saree she had originally chosen and go for a coppersulphate blue saree instead?

No deadlines but please keep your stories short. You can leave your story in the comment box. Get scribbling.

Thank you

Dear all

Thank you ever so much for your fantastic response to the Ready, Steady, Charity fundraising appeal in aid of Projectwhy. A conservative estimate reveals that you have helped raise almost Rs 20,000!

I am most touched by your generosity. Thanks in particular to Neha and Shoefiend for their prolific output of stories and poems of extraordinary quality.

Hope you had a wonderful Deepavali.

Thank you.

Update: Anouradha Bakshi writes...

.. and this time her fund raising diwali effort was a huge surprise.. as it came before my now jaded appeals for help..It meant a lot to me personally and to all the 600 planet why inhabitants as it brought hope, cheer and above all showed that someonea cared.The whopping 25 000 Rs that have been collected may seem small to many but it can sustain a class for more than 2 months or pay one teacher for a whole year.The short story book project is still on and now we can add these delightful tales and make it a souvenir for all...We hope to see you all at pwhy one day and hope that you will keep supporting us by sending your wishes and love.Thank you all and do keep in touch, at least virtually through or blog and site

anou

Ready, Steady, Charity!

This is a sticky post. Please scroll down for the usual.

Do you remember this?

This Deepavali we're doing it again.

Only this time, I've got two wonderfully talented women to help with the task. Neha and Shoefiend have kindly volunteered to write around the words you suggest.

So email me 3 random words at ammania@ gmail.com. And we will come up with tales, prose, poetry, advertising copy, recipes...something delightfully silly (or at least plain silly) using those three words. And then you could make a small donation (no amount is too small!) to Projectwhy.

Go on, challenge us!

Please note: You send the donation directly to Projectwhy via paypal/money order or any other preferred method. Not through us. Not through anyone else.

Four already!

They grow up so quickly!





Reading My Son

His last school days; he strolls through the door,
his shirt signed in fat felt-tips by his mates.
Sophie loves him loads and Todd reminds him
to keep in touch by nightly MSN.
Jodie's going to miss his wicked laugh.
Mel rates his hair and someone wants his babies.

I try to read him. He drinks orange juice
straight from the carton, towering over me.
He's going out tonight. He turns the bass up.
The shirt's sloughed off. I'll hold it once he's gone.

-Catherine Smith

Nine of mine

A good friend from my pre-blogging days, Deepa has tagged me. The tag is about revealing nine things about oneself. So here goes.

1. I'm alright. But I'd like my tea white with no sugar please.
2. I don't always enjoy cooking.
3. Politics tires me.
4. I'm not entirely sure what my shoe size is. I'm a size 5 1/2 at Clark's and a size 6 elsewhere.
5. I watched Swan Lake at the Royal Opera House performed by the Bolshoi Theatre recently. I loved it but the seats were very uncomfortable.
6. I feel guilty when I put my little on in front of the tv.
7. I don't think I can ever jump out of a plane.
8. There's a photograph of me standing with my feet on either side of the equator.
9. I feel very touched when people remember my birthday.

The tag's up for anyone to take. Let's hear from you.

Update:

Annon's 9

1. I dream sometimes about my past life in Italy
2. Today I am wearing an underwear which I bought in 1998 on a short trip to Dubai
3. When I cut my fingernails, I leave the ones for the thumb and middle finger to be able to use them to open stuff. Only one hand
4. Sometimes, I suddenly say stuff from old memorized slokams like "Mandrapushpam vahamahe" in a meeting and astonish people
5. When I was a child, I wanted to have a falcon that I would call Jimutavahana. I still want one.
6. Friends call me T, after the character in Soprano
7. My favourite hindi film is an obscure film called Anant Yatra based on Woody Allen´s Kugelmass episode. http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0251584/. I cant find it anywhere.
8. I wanted to join the Indian Forest service, but they rejected me.
9. I sometimes do a breakdance to an old ad that goes as "Ok, ok, oh, Tata ka Ok. Dhulai ka Sabun, Tata ka Ok. Ok Ok, oh, Tata ka Ok".