It's 254 PM EST on 24 Dec 2009. Hancock International Airport, Syracuse, NY, USA. What rest of the world would oversimplify as Christmas Eve.
I just spent the last 10 minutes thinking about what I should do. I was very efficient today. Got to work at 8 AM and worked with ruthless precision to wrap up most of my work at 1 Pm sharp and left the office for the airport. Syracuse is a small city, so exactly 1 hour from that point, I had got to the airport, returned the rental car, checked in, cleared security and finished lunch.
I knew exactly what to do at 2 PM. There was that one last document I needed to email to my client (there is always that one last document...). So I opened my laptop and got busy. One document is never one document and a couple of emails is never a couple so I ended up spending roughly 45 minutes working, but the ruthless precision continued and I had completed what I wanted to do in that time.
That is when I started wondering what to do next. Because exactly at that point, the attendant at the US air desk at Gate 5 announced that the aircraft meant for Philadelphia at 320 PM had just left Philadelphia for Syracuse and was expected to get here at roughly 305 and that they would start boarding just after that. So at worst, there could be a 15 or 20 minute delay. Not bad considering that my travel from Philadelphia to Syracuse earlier in the week was quite a story.
So I had some time on my hand. Since I am sitting on a seat that faces out into the open (the runways et al...) I can actually see when the flight from Philadeplhia has come to a complete stop at Gate 5. So I don't have the need to shut my laptop any sooner than that.
That is when I started thinking what I must do now. I kept looking at my email box. No email had really come in since 233 and that is surprising for me. It's Christmas Eve for sure... I hit the refresh button just to be sure and I hit it again, to be more sure. Nothing. I logged into gmail. Nothing. I logged in to all my other email addresses. Nothing, nothing, nothing...
At that point, I knew I really had nothing to do for the rest of this time while I am waiting for flight 4305 to show up from Phialdelphia. I started to wonder. Should I get up and go get a drink? May be I should get some dessert... And then voila! I knew what I should do. BLOG!
There is certainly some relationship between the "Nothing Time" I spend at airports and my blogging habit for most of my blogs (and certainly my best ones) have happened at the airport while waiting for my flight. Free Internet at airports like the Hancock International only make it better.
I see a flight that has just pulled up and come to a complete stop at Gate 5. I do not know if it is from Philadelphia and I cannot hear any announcement (certainly not above Theenda Theenda Parvai Theenda from Chinna that is playing in my ears on high volume). But I turn around and and no one seated at the gate seems to be in any hurry to board this plane. So I will go on...
I try to think this through. I am a glutton. I have just had a tomato basil soup for lunch and nothing more. On another day, I would definitely got up from my seat with a view and got a dessert or a drink. Or at least run to the rest room and...
So why did I decide to just sit here in the comfort of this seat and BLOG? Was it my passion to write? Was it my resolve not to overeat today? Or was it this gorgeous girl who walked up to the window, took off her jacket (to reveal the rich red sweater) and strethced out her legs on the floor just five feet from me... We will never know, will we?
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
I am Not So Great!
Dedicated to the woman who has committed her life to making mine BEAUTIFUL.
"What would you like to eat before you leave?", she asked me from the kitchen. "I just ate my oatmeal, I said. "That is right, but you will be on the road for a couple of hours once you leave here and then you will go straight to your meeting and I am sure you won't get anywhere close to food until about 4 PM", she insisted.
I felt like sometimes, my wife's only job was to feed me and my son. We'd be sitting there barely having digested our lunch and she would be wondering what to make for dinner. She's committed alright. So that day was just another day. It was exactly a week ago, on 7 Dec 09 and it was about 1015 AM. I had a meeting with a client in New York city at 2 PM and would be hitting the road soon. And keep in mind, I had my oatmeal that morning a little before 9 AM.
"What do you want? Upma or Maggi?". There was the question again. "Upma is good", I said, just to get her out of my hair. I was working, writing emails furiously, trying to get some things done on a Monday morning. "When do you plan to leave? Aren't you getting late?", she prodded further. "Shouldn't I wait till the upma is done?", was my response. I was trying to be smart, to trap her in her own ruse. She just gave me a wry smile. "Just a couple of emails to be done, by when the upma will also be done. Eat, that, dress up and I will be in my car at 11 AM sharp", I said.
"Upma ready", came the call, but this time it was from closer. I was so engrossed with my couple of emails that I hadn't realised she had brought the upma to me where I was, on my couch, legs stretched out on the center table. I had to respect the upma so that was the end of that email and I promptly dropped the laptop back on the table and picked up my plate. I noticed she had made some for herself too and I decided to spend the next 5 minutes eating and chatting with her, the least I can do for a woman who did so much for me. I have to thank God for little pleasures like working from home, for those 5 minutes were nice. Hot upma, small talk... How many times have I done small talk with her in the last one year (the last 10 for that matter...)?
I didn't have to ask her, but she promptly took my plate and put it over hers when we were both finished and put both of them in the kitchen sink. Washing them to a sparkle was on her agenda sometime that day, coming soon. "You are making coffee, right?". I guess I did ask for this one. The plate that left my lap not even a minute ago had already been replaced by my laptop, so even as I continued my furious emailing, I slightly tilted my head to check her reaction to my ask. I had seen that stare before, several times, but it was accompanied by a smile, so I knew I had gotten away this time. She loved my sheer cheek.
5 emails later the best flavor ever created by God teased my nostrils. I did not even have to look up, for my favorite white cup was placed right next to me on a coaster. "Thank you for the excellent customer service", I said, picking it up right away. "Hey! Can I ask you for just one thing more? I haven't ironed my white shirt yet and I have this important document to send out before I leave...", and my face wore an expression of pleading. "You are really too much", was all she said, as she walked away towards our bedroom this time.
It took me another 10 minutes to relish that coffee to its last sip and I looked down the bottom of the empty cup with despair. The important document was also sent and it was 10:45 AM. I had decided that the emailing had to stop and I spent another couple of minutes shutting down my laptop and shoving it in my bag. I stood up and stretched myself again staring into the sunlight. It was a bright sunny morning and I was feeling really good (for a Monday morning!). I ambled into the bedroom and further into the closet. I slipped on my trousers and my undershirt.
"Here you go", she said, "and is there anything else I can do for you today?". "Oh yeah! Will you slip my coat on from my back once I am all ready?", I said as I put on my well pressed crisp white shirt and just started to knot my new red tie (which she got me for my birthday!). She must have been seething with anger by now and she came right behind me and said, "why don't you let me knot your tie?. That way I can strangle you this instant". "I don't need that service this morning, thank you", I said, picked up my coat, handed it to her and walked out of my bedroom back to the hall.
I picked up my wallet on the way, put on my socks and shoes and then realised I had forgotten my ring and neck chain that I always wear everyday. "Can you?", I said and she slowly walked back to fetch them from their little home. I took them from her, wore them on and looked at the small mirror. "I feel good", I said. "That's good", she said and I realised she was ready with my coat in her hand waiting to help me get into it. She eased it on to my arms and then wiped away the lint from its back. I was all set. She then gave me a warm hug and said, "Good Luck. You will do well today." I gave her a peck on the cheek, thanked her and walked out. It was 11 AM.
For someone who grew up watching Indian films in the 1980s, everything that happened in the last 45 minutes was all too familiar. The lady of the house, waking up early, getting the breakfast on the table, getting the kid ready, seeing him off at the bus station and then attending to the husband's every little need till shw saw him ride away to work in his car. "But then", I thought to myself, as I merged on to interstate highway 295N, "those men in those movies were all great men, business tycoons and the like".
I am not so great! Not yet. I guess, I am just BLESSED!
Exactly one week later, on this Monday morning, at 723 AM, I am sitting at the Philadelphia airport, the victim of a delayed flight. I left home at the ungodly hour of 330 AM and she was still there, gving me the proverbial hug and waiting on the patio, till the airport shuttle pulled away from the parking lot. And today is no ordinary day. It's her Birthday. So as I am sitting here killing time, I decided that the least I could do for her today was write this for her and thank her, for making my every moment so beautiful. For making my Life so BEAUTIFUL.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY PONDATTI.
"What would you like to eat before you leave?", she asked me from the kitchen. "I just ate my oatmeal, I said. "That is right, but you will be on the road for a couple of hours once you leave here and then you will go straight to your meeting and I am sure you won't get anywhere close to food until about 4 PM", she insisted.
I felt like sometimes, my wife's only job was to feed me and my son. We'd be sitting there barely having digested our lunch and she would be wondering what to make for dinner. She's committed alright. So that day was just another day. It was exactly a week ago, on 7 Dec 09 and it was about 1015 AM. I had a meeting with a client in New York city at 2 PM and would be hitting the road soon. And keep in mind, I had my oatmeal that morning a little before 9 AM.
"What do you want? Upma or Maggi?". There was the question again. "Upma is good", I said, just to get her out of my hair. I was working, writing emails furiously, trying to get some things done on a Monday morning. "When do you plan to leave? Aren't you getting late?", she prodded further. "Shouldn't I wait till the upma is done?", was my response. I was trying to be smart, to trap her in her own ruse. She just gave me a wry smile. "Just a couple of emails to be done, by when the upma will also be done. Eat, that, dress up and I will be in my car at 11 AM sharp", I said.
"Upma ready", came the call, but this time it was from closer. I was so engrossed with my couple of emails that I hadn't realised she had brought the upma to me where I was, on my couch, legs stretched out on the center table. I had to respect the upma so that was the end of that email and I promptly dropped the laptop back on the table and picked up my plate. I noticed she had made some for herself too and I decided to spend the next 5 minutes eating and chatting with her, the least I can do for a woman who did so much for me. I have to thank God for little pleasures like working from home, for those 5 minutes were nice. Hot upma, small talk... How many times have I done small talk with her in the last one year (the last 10 for that matter...)?
I didn't have to ask her, but she promptly took my plate and put it over hers when we were both finished and put both of them in the kitchen sink. Washing them to a sparkle was on her agenda sometime that day, coming soon. "You are making coffee, right?". I guess I did ask for this one. The plate that left my lap not even a minute ago had already been replaced by my laptop, so even as I continued my furious emailing, I slightly tilted my head to check her reaction to my ask. I had seen that stare before, several times, but it was accompanied by a smile, so I knew I had gotten away this time. She loved my sheer cheek.
5 emails later the best flavor ever created by God teased my nostrils. I did not even have to look up, for my favorite white cup was placed right next to me on a coaster. "Thank you for the excellent customer service", I said, picking it up right away. "Hey! Can I ask you for just one thing more? I haven't ironed my white shirt yet and I have this important document to send out before I leave...", and my face wore an expression of pleading. "You are really too much", was all she said, as she walked away towards our bedroom this time.
It took me another 10 minutes to relish that coffee to its last sip and I looked down the bottom of the empty cup with despair. The important document was also sent and it was 10:45 AM. I had decided that the emailing had to stop and I spent another couple of minutes shutting down my laptop and shoving it in my bag. I stood up and stretched myself again staring into the sunlight. It was a bright sunny morning and I was feeling really good (for a Monday morning!). I ambled into the bedroom and further into the closet. I slipped on my trousers and my undershirt.
"Here you go", she said, "and is there anything else I can do for you today?". "Oh yeah! Will you slip my coat on from my back once I am all ready?", I said as I put on my well pressed crisp white shirt and just started to knot my new red tie (which she got me for my birthday!). She must have been seething with anger by now and she came right behind me and said, "why don't you let me knot your tie?. That way I can strangle you this instant". "I don't need that service this morning, thank you", I said, picked up my coat, handed it to her and walked out of my bedroom back to the hall.
I picked up my wallet on the way, put on my socks and shoes and then realised I had forgotten my ring and neck chain that I always wear everyday. "Can you?", I said and she slowly walked back to fetch them from their little home. I took them from her, wore them on and looked at the small mirror. "I feel good", I said. "That's good", she said and I realised she was ready with my coat in her hand waiting to help me get into it. She eased it on to my arms and then wiped away the lint from its back. I was all set. She then gave me a warm hug and said, "Good Luck. You will do well today." I gave her a peck on the cheek, thanked her and walked out. It was 11 AM.
For someone who grew up watching Indian films in the 1980s, everything that happened in the last 45 minutes was all too familiar. The lady of the house, waking up early, getting the breakfast on the table, getting the kid ready, seeing him off at the bus station and then attending to the husband's every little need till shw saw him ride away to work in his car. "But then", I thought to myself, as I merged on to interstate highway 295N, "those men in those movies were all great men, business tycoons and the like".
I am not so great! Not yet. I guess, I am just BLESSED!
Exactly one week later, on this Monday morning, at 723 AM, I am sitting at the Philadelphia airport, the victim of a delayed flight. I left home at the ungodly hour of 330 AM and she was still there, gving me the proverbial hug and waiting on the patio, till the airport shuttle pulled away from the parking lot. And today is no ordinary day. It's her Birthday. So as I am sitting here killing time, I decided that the least I could do for her today was write this for her and thank her, for making my every moment so beautiful. For making my Life so BEAUTIFUL.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY PONDATTI.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Good Grief!
Q: To begin with, how can grief be good?
A: I don't know but let's not worry about that.
Q: So what should we worry about?
A: Nothing. Don't worry, Be Happy.
Q: Be Happy about what?
A: Happy that this is a kind of first.
Q: Why is it a kind of first?
A; Because I have never done this before.
Q: What have I never done before?
A: I have never written a post within 2 days of publishing my last one, so it's a first.
Q: What was my last post about?
A: What Women Want...
Q: What will people think when they first read that post?
A: They will think it was inspired by wife.
Q: So wasn't it inspired by my wife?
A: Inspired, YES. She is my BIGGEST inspiration.
Q: But was she the reason for Grief?
A: No, not at all, it was just a series of stuff I saw and heard that led to my professional perspective on What Women Want...
Q: So what did I see?
A: For starts, I saw the movie, What Women Want (for the umpteenth time). And if you still haven't seen it, I still recommend it.
Q: And what did I hear?
A: I heard a joke about how women think from a well-known stand up comedian.
Q: And who might he be?
A: I am not mentioning his name. This is not a free advertisement for him.
Q: So it was a "He", wasn't it?
A: Yes, that is kind of obvious from the post itself.
Q: OK, let the last post lie, why is this one called good grief?
A: That is because I have had a lot of grief this week.
Q: And what, may I ask, that was?
A: It began on Monday, with a client, who gave me grief.
Q: Why did he give me grief?
A: Because he kept saying, "Hi so-and-so, How come you haven't given me any grief today".
Q: So that gave me grief?
A: Really, not that, but the fact that we were performing miserably on a project for this client.
Q: Oh come on! Wasn't the client being nice with his sense of humor?
A: He was being nice no doubt, but that did not take away the fact that we were performing miserably.
Q: So what did that mean?
A: That meant a few more sleepless nights for me.
Q: Really? How sleepless?
A: 2 hours of sleep is all I got on Monday night.
Q: Isn't 2 hours plenty?
A: Yes, it's plenty of grief.
Q: Oh, come on! Was it that bad?
A: Yes, given that, I had 2 flights to the same client's location on Tuesday and a 4 hour meeting that afternoon.
Q: So did I sleep right through the meeting?
A: I tried, but it was too hot to sleep.
Q: How hot was it?
A: Despite our temporary miserable performance, the client is giving us more work, that's how hot it was.
Q: So did I go party after the meeting?
A: Yes I did. Dinner on the riverside and then watching basketball and babes in a British bar till midnight.
Q: Quite a party, eh?
A: Yes, but that meant I didn't sleep on time that night either.
Q: 2 nights in a row is not that bad, is it?
A: It's bad if you have 2 more flights to ride on the next day.
Q: And exactly where was I off to?
A: Rochester, New York
Q: Wow, quite a traveller, aren't I?
A: I do what I must do.
Q: And what did I do in Rochester?
A: I spent a sleepless Wednesday night.
Q: And how did that come about?
A: The Phillies beat the Yankees in the first World Series baseball game and then there was this movie on TBS.
Q: Not again! What movie?
A: I am Sam.
Q: Amn't I Lakshmi?
A: I am Lakshmi, but the movie was "I am Sam".
Q: What about Sam?
A: He made stay up until 4 AM.
Q: Wasn't I planning to show up for work Thursday morning?
A: I was, at our corporate headquarters.
Q: So what's the story?
A: I was up at 7 AM and worked until 7 PM.
Q: Then what?
A: That was the best part of the week, I had a south Indian meal.
Q: So didn't that put me to sleep?
A: Not at all. I ended up watching an Indian movie.
Q: How would I watch an Indian movie at a hotel in Rochester?
A: Slumdog Millionaire.
Q: How is that an Indian movie?
A: Made in India, Indian movie.
Q: Didn't it get some Oscar Awards?
A: Yes, and I got another sleepless night.
Q: Didn't I Thank God, the next day was Friday.
A: Yes I did thank god. But for him I wouldn't
have made my meeting at 9 AM.
Q: And how did that go?
A: It went well, but that meant more work.
Q: So is it all work and no play?
A: No. It's all work and no sleep.
Q: Won't you get some sleep on Friday night?
A: Only if I get home on time.
Q: What's up with that?
A: My flight was delayed and I am now sitting on this plane, writing this piece.
Q: When will I stop writing this piece?
A: Looks like I won't stop writing this piece, because, my plane is landing in Philadelphia and the hostess didn't even notice I am still chugging away on my laptop...
Q: Now, will I break the rules and keep my laptop on through the landing?
A: No I won't. If I did that, I probably wouldn't sleep tonight!
Q: So did I shut off the laptop?
A: Yes, but only to open it again when I was on the shuttle back home.
Q: How is it working in the shuttle?
A: Quite a bumpy ride, but at least I will sleep tonight.
Q. How will that be? Won't I be up trying to upload this to the internet?
A. I will, but that will make me feel happy.
Q: Will this be the end of my grief?
A: No. But this is definitely the end of my piece.
Good Night. No grief...
This is an original post published on Oct 30, 2009 by Lakshminarayan Balasubramaniam.
A: I don't know but let's not worry about that.
Q: So what should we worry about?
A: Nothing. Don't worry, Be Happy.
Q: Be Happy about what?
A: Happy that this is a kind of first.
Q: Why is it a kind of first?
A; Because I have never done this before.
Q: What have I never done before?
A: I have never written a post within 2 days of publishing my last one, so it's a first.
Q: What was my last post about?
A: What Women Want...
Q: What will people think when they first read that post?
A: They will think it was inspired by wife.
Q: So wasn't it inspired by my wife?
A: Inspired, YES. She is my BIGGEST inspiration.
Q: But was she the reason for Grief?
A: No, not at all, it was just a series of stuff I saw and heard that led to my professional perspective on What Women Want...
Q: So what did I see?
A: For starts, I saw the movie, What Women Want (for the umpteenth time). And if you still haven't seen it, I still recommend it.
Q: And what did I hear?
A: I heard a joke about how women think from a well-known stand up comedian.
Q: And who might he be?
A: I am not mentioning his name. This is not a free advertisement for him.
Q: So it was a "He", wasn't it?
A: Yes, that is kind of obvious from the post itself.
Q: OK, let the last post lie, why is this one called good grief?
A: That is because I have had a lot of grief this week.
Q: And what, may I ask, that was?
A: It began on Monday, with a client, who gave me grief.
Q: Why did he give me grief?
A: Because he kept saying, "Hi so-and-so, How come you haven't given me any grief today".
Q: So that gave me grief?
A: Really, not that, but the fact that we were performing miserably on a project for this client.
Q: Oh come on! Wasn't the client being nice with his sense of humor?
A: He was being nice no doubt, but that did not take away the fact that we were performing miserably.
Q: So what did that mean?
A: That meant a few more sleepless nights for me.
Q: Really? How sleepless?
A: 2 hours of sleep is all I got on Monday night.
Q: Isn't 2 hours plenty?
A: Yes, it's plenty of grief.
Q: Oh, come on! Was it that bad?
A: Yes, given that, I had 2 flights to the same client's location on Tuesday and a 4 hour meeting that afternoon.
Q: So did I sleep right through the meeting?
A: I tried, but it was too hot to sleep.
Q: How hot was it?
A: Despite our temporary miserable performance, the client is giving us more work, that's how hot it was.
Q: So did I go party after the meeting?
A: Yes I did. Dinner on the riverside and then watching basketball and babes in a British bar till midnight.
Q: Quite a party, eh?
A: Yes, but that meant I didn't sleep on time that night either.
Q: 2 nights in a row is not that bad, is it?
A: It's bad if you have 2 more flights to ride on the next day.
Q: And exactly where was I off to?
A: Rochester, New York
Q: Wow, quite a traveller, aren't I?
A: I do what I must do.
Q: And what did I do in Rochester?
A: I spent a sleepless Wednesday night.
Q: And how did that come about?
A: The Phillies beat the Yankees in the first World Series baseball game and then there was this movie on TBS.
Q: Not again! What movie?
A: I am Sam.
Q: Amn't I Lakshmi?
A: I am Lakshmi, but the movie was "I am Sam".
Q: What about Sam?
A: He made stay up until 4 AM.
Q: Wasn't I planning to show up for work Thursday morning?
A: I was, at our corporate headquarters.
Q: So what's the story?
A: I was up at 7 AM and worked until 7 PM.
Q: Then what?
A: That was the best part of the week, I had a south Indian meal.
Q: So didn't that put me to sleep?
A: Not at all. I ended up watching an Indian movie.
Q: How would I watch an Indian movie at a hotel in Rochester?
A: Slumdog Millionaire.
Q: How is that an Indian movie?
A: Made in India, Indian movie.
Q: Didn't it get some Oscar Awards?
A: Yes, and I got another sleepless night.
Q: Didn't I Thank God, the next day was Friday.
A: Yes I did thank god. But for him I wouldn't
have made my meeting at 9 AM.
Q: And how did that go?
A: It went well, but that meant more work.
Q: So is it all work and no play?
A: No. It's all work and no sleep.
Q: Won't you get some sleep on Friday night?
A: Only if I get home on time.
Q: What's up with that?
A: My flight was delayed and I am now sitting on this plane, writing this piece.
Q: When will I stop writing this piece?
A: Looks like I won't stop writing this piece, because, my plane is landing in Philadelphia and the hostess didn't even notice I am still chugging away on my laptop...
Q: Now, will I break the rules and keep my laptop on through the landing?
A: No I won't. If I did that, I probably wouldn't sleep tonight!
Q: So did I shut off the laptop?
A: Yes, but only to open it again when I was on the shuttle back home.
Q: How is it working in the shuttle?
A: Quite a bumpy ride, but at least I will sleep tonight.
Q. How will that be? Won't I be up trying to upload this to the internet?
A. I will, but that will make me feel happy.
Q: Will this be the end of my grief?
A: No. But this is definitely the end of my piece.
Good Night. No grief...
This is an original post published on Oct 30, 2009 by Lakshminarayan Balasubramaniam.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
What Women Want! A Professional Point of View.
If you have not seen the Mel Gibson, Helen Hunt starrer, I highly recommend it. I liked it (to say "it's good" is presumptuous).
Just to give you an insight into the movie itself, a man who makes his living in the world of advertising (that's another reason I love this film!!!) suddenly starts hearing what women around him are THINKING (not saying, mind you). And then goes on to create an advertising campaign that is a great hit for a women's product and goes on to woo his own boss who he has fallen for and in the process learns a few lessons about life. Super screenplay, funny in parts and the necessary emotion at the end. But this is not a review of What Women Want.
This is another perspective. I think about it. Is an advertising person the right one to crack the code on the single most challenging puzzle that has haunted all men since ADAM? Remember, the hero of the movie was given the ability to hear what women around him were thinking. That does not happen in real life. So who is the right kind of professional worthy of even trying to solve this?
My first guess is a psychologist. If you are a psychologist, you could probably read a woman by her body language, 'hint' language and the "unspoken" language. I am sure that though many psychologists are up to the task by sheer qualification, most have obviously failed because it still remains the single biggest puzzle...
My next best bet is a scientist. These days scientists are able to do a lot of intricate tests. A professor from a very acclaimed institution recently told me about saliva tests. I believe it is possible to gather information about what is going on in a person's head based on the saliva collected from that person at a given point in time. Give me a minute, gentlemen. Given that the most likely way you got her saliva was because she spat at you, isn't it obvious that there is only one emotion involved here? She is ANGRY, my friend? Who needs a scientist to say that? It only helps to be a scientist if you can go one up and say WHY she is angry. I've been looking for some time, but I haven't found one who can. If you do, please send me the number!
I tried doctors and lawyers. They say you must never lie to your doctor or your lawyer. But women women don't lie (give them some credit here). They just don't say what they are thinking, that's all. If you still don't believe what I am saying, go get tickets to a decent stand up comedy show by a MALE COMEDIAN and you're sure to find material that suggests he is also still searching for an answer. Trust me, all men are...
When men in eminent professsions have failed in this quest and when neither fame nor intellect nor steely will has accomplished this onerours task, how am I to fare? I am, but a project manager. Everything I do, I do with checklists. From the time I wake up till the time I go back to bed, I run my life by checklists. So, it looks like all I can do is ask her to give me a checklist of things that I say or do, that can make her angry. And try really hard to remember the one million line items on that list...
And now I'm going to need a software professional to build a software that can hold a million lines on one sheet. Excel can't!
Just to give you an insight into the movie itself, a man who makes his living in the world of advertising (that's another reason I love this film!!!) suddenly starts hearing what women around him are THINKING (not saying, mind you). And then goes on to create an advertising campaign that is a great hit for a women's product and goes on to woo his own boss who he has fallen for and in the process learns a few lessons about life. Super screenplay, funny in parts and the necessary emotion at the end. But this is not a review of What Women Want.
This is another perspective. I think about it. Is an advertising person the right one to crack the code on the single most challenging puzzle that has haunted all men since ADAM? Remember, the hero of the movie was given the ability to hear what women around him were thinking. That does not happen in real life. So who is the right kind of professional worthy of even trying to solve this?
My first guess is a psychologist. If you are a psychologist, you could probably read a woman by her body language, 'hint' language and the "unspoken" language. I am sure that though many psychologists are up to the task by sheer qualification, most have obviously failed because it still remains the single biggest puzzle...
My next best bet is a scientist. These days scientists are able to do a lot of intricate tests. A professor from a very acclaimed institution recently told me about saliva tests. I believe it is possible to gather information about what is going on in a person's head based on the saliva collected from that person at a given point in time. Give me a minute, gentlemen. Given that the most likely way you got her saliva was because she spat at you, isn't it obvious that there is only one emotion involved here? She is ANGRY, my friend? Who needs a scientist to say that? It only helps to be a scientist if you can go one up and say WHY she is angry. I've been looking for some time, but I haven't found one who can. If you do, please send me the number!
I tried doctors and lawyers. They say you must never lie to your doctor or your lawyer. But women women don't lie (give them some credit here). They just don't say what they are thinking, that's all. If you still don't believe what I am saying, go get tickets to a decent stand up comedy show by a MALE COMEDIAN and you're sure to find material that suggests he is also still searching for an answer. Trust me, all men are...
When men in eminent professsions have failed in this quest and when neither fame nor intellect nor steely will has accomplished this onerours task, how am I to fare? I am, but a project manager. Everything I do, I do with checklists. From the time I wake up till the time I go back to bed, I run my life by checklists. So, it looks like all I can do is ask her to give me a checklist of things that I say or do, that can make her angry. And try really hard to remember the one million line items on that list...
And now I'm going to need a software professional to build a software that can hold a million lines on one sheet. Excel can't!
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Independence Day
Saturday, August 15, 2009
I feel like writing today. Not that there is anything to write about. Not even that I am top of the world yet. I am trying to think why I want to write or what I feel. Only a strange kind of coincidence occurs to the mind. Today is India's Independence Day and today I feel a strange kind of independence myself.
Independence from some of the ghosts that have chased me for a very long time in life. I was telling my wife a couple of days back how her recent trip to India (being away for six weeks) was an awakening time for me. For one, this time I made better of my fear for staying alone. I still slept with the lights on in the pathway from the living room to the bedroom alright, but that's why I said I made better of my FEAR and not got away with my fear.
It's not just the physical FEAR of being alone. I can see how the FEAR of things unknown is fading out. Not to say I was not alarmed by the huge guy on the Broadway sidewalk last night who was walking ahead of me and suddenly turned around and said something. I am not even sure if he was talking to me, but all I know was I was walking faster towards the doors of my hotel which were less than a few paces away. That safety was at hand's reach was comforting.
It was not the case though on the other night in the same New York neighbourhood exactly 3 weeks ago. That was another Friday night, when I spent one hour, from midnight to 1 AM on the bench in the middle of Broadway at 94th, alongside a couple of homeless people. Not long ago, not even the day before that one, I would not have crossed the road to go to the other side if those same people were sitting there on that bench. I would have gone down the sidewalk on my side, a few blocks further even, to get to the famous tea and muchkins I so savor from Dunkin Donuts. That's another story...
I am just returning home after taking a second term exam and I am trying to think if I had FEAR of exams before. No. It was just a hatred for exams. I just did not want to take them, but I sure had the FEAR of failure. That was the killer, not only in my academic history, but on several counts in life. There was a time in my life when FEAR of failure did not let me seek what I wanted, did not let me ask for what I sought. That FEAR has gone too, I feel. Contrary to that FEAR, I feel it is the lack of that FEAR that is my bane now. I am not even afraid of making mistakes now. Actually, that is my only FEAR!
Not even snakes. No more can they frighten me. I like to believe there is an element of God there. I think the depiction of snakes in association with some of my favorite Hindu Gods has actually helped me get over the fear of snakes. The King Cobra still frequents my vision, most often when I get in the shower and close my eyes to let the wound up tensions in my body go. But I am not afraid of him. I respect him for what he is (he is a King after all). And if I met him for real, I wouldn't FEAR either staying still in common sense or bowing down to him in my religious sense. Either way, I don't think I will fight him, but I will let him decide what he wants to do. I am not afraid of what will happen right after...
I look up and think back 2 days. I was 30 minutes away from being on the bus to New York, the day before my exams. That is when I realized my wallet was sitting snug in his rightful place at home. He likes his place and I am sure he was extremely comfortable on a warm summer afternoon. Only it wasn't helping me or my uncontrollable wife. The drama that unfolded in the next hour or so was unnerving that I needed to take a nap all the way to New York, a 100 minute bus ride. But yes, I was on that bus to New York, sans my dear wallet.
How I have missed him in the last 2 days. Every often my hand would reach out to my back pocket (yet another of his comfortable resting places), only to remember that I had left him back home in Mt Laurel. So how did I manage to get to New York, spend 2 nights at a hotel, eat, ride the subway and even stop on the walkway at the Port Authority bus terminal to hand out a dollar to the old woman I see every time I pass that way? That is not another story, but the details are inconseqential. The essence my dear, is the absence of FEAR.
I am looking out into the sunlight gleaming off the stream of cars on the New Jersey Turnpike. They are not moving at the average 60 miles per hour. Now that causes some FEAR. I remember the last exam day of the first term (this one is the second). I was going home after the exam to get dressed up for a GALA that night and return to my favorite city, but a trailer truck on the NJTP that crashed into 7 or 8 other cars caused me to sit in a hot Greyhound Bus for 3 or 4 hours. But it is a FEAR that I will get over with patience. I have had plenty of that and may be it is just going to test me again.
It is strange how this FEAR now seems to be shifting from one place to another. I don't mind if I have to sit in this bus for a few hours but my FEAR is that my laptop's battery will drain in a finite amount of time and I will neither be able to continue writing, nor be able to listen to music (the battery on my MP3 player drained out last night!). And this is the NJTP. Not NH4 in India, where, if the traffic backs up a long way, soon there will be vendors of all kinds selling their wares from peanuts to hand held fans to the anxious travellers, who will also happily lap up items of interest. Yet again, my FEAR is, I have but 2 dollars left on my person. Dear Wallet, I have never missed you so much in my life. It's all of an hour that separates us and the traffic on the turnpike is threatening to make it a couple or more.
Luckily, we're moving (not stopped), even as I move from one FEAR to another. And right now, we are actually moving fast enough for me to move out of this FEAR on to the next one. Ah! There it is. My stomach growls. I realize I have not eaten lunch and if I don't get to my wallet on time and get some cash, I can't get close to food I need and that usually causes me a migraine. I wouldn't FEAR it so much if I could just go home and sleep it off. Right now, I can't. My car will be waiting for me at the Greyhound station in Mt Laurel and I will need to drive her to the beautiful city of Philadelphia where my wife and son and the one who I treat like my other son are waiting for me to go out and have a good time.
How I would like to go to Dunkin Donuts and sink my teeth into a egg-white flat bread sandwich right now. Now wait. Then there is the FEAR of cholesterol. It is like some kind of satan who is lurking around me and threatening me from having a good life and eating all my favorite food. How I restricted myself to only one aloo tikki yesterday at the Indian buffet lunch is a wonder I can't explain but I am certain that devil cholesterol has something to with it.
The battery sign on my laptop just dropped some blue and gained white. 31 minutes left, it says. Given that I am listening to music also through the laptop, I don't think the 31 will be a true 31, it may be even 13 and there is no running from that. Right now, it seems like crawling would even be better, because we have actually stopped. I look out the window to see if I can spot the peanut vendors. I can use some now. I can actually use a full Indian buffet right now. The choice really is between death by cholesterol and death by hunger. I'd like to push death out a little so it gives me a chance to fight back the cholesterol.
We are crawling. That is good. And I still have 26 mins before I lose sound and sight. I am desperately hoping I can catch a glimpse of the green sign that tells me what exit is next on the turnpike (before I lose my senses). But all I can see is the back of a huge bus that is drudging along right ahead of us. That the average seat area occuppied by the co-passengers on my left and right is one and a half is not helping either. Ah! I spot an exit. Alas! It is only a service area. And one that a Greyhound bus will not pull into. One that I will not know what to do in even if this bus pulls up into, thanks to penury.
I adjust my body a little into the half seat I have got. My right leg is sore from hanging out of the seat for the last hour and a half, but you know what, I am just being mean. The gentleman next to me probably did not do anything himself to be so large. In fact, he has been extremely decent (he was the only one who offered me the space next to him to hang from!).
We're actually moving. I don't know if it is a mirage and I certainly hope it isn't. The lanes on the turnpike have just merged (I mean the ones for trucks, buses and cars and the one for cars only), so my guess is it is at least another 30 miles to exit 4 and that's 30 minutes at a reasonable average of 60 miles per hour. I've been doing too much of math and stats lately and I can tell. 13 minutes to go on my laptop. I FEAR that I will lose all I wrote so I hit Alt F and S. Again!
The shuffle function on my MP3 player gave me a song I don't savor too much, so I chose another one. A true favorite. Rasave Unnai Nambi from Mudhal Mariyadhai. Orange light blinking, a sign of danger. Hopefully, this song will see itself through and I will go out in style. Right now, I FEAR I may not even get halfway through it. I am counting every second. At least the bus is moving at a fair clip, so my wait time right after I shut down won't be much. Well, how bad can it be. A few hours?
My laptop is threatening to hibernate and I gotta go. It's been a long bus ride and my laptop has stayed alive all the while giving me the pleasure of writing this and the music, so I can't complain. But just as I take my mind away from this for a moment, I realise how sweaty and stinky I am. And I am going to Penn's Landing for the Indian Independence Day celebrations, where there are supposed to be thousands of Indians today (and some beautiful women too!). Am I going to look good? Just my next FEAR...
I feel like writing today. Not that there is anything to write about. Not even that I am top of the world yet. I am trying to think why I want to write or what I feel. Only a strange kind of coincidence occurs to the mind. Today is India's Independence Day and today I feel a strange kind of independence myself.
Independence from some of the ghosts that have chased me for a very long time in life. I was telling my wife a couple of days back how her recent trip to India (being away for six weeks) was an awakening time for me. For one, this time I made better of my fear for staying alone. I still slept with the lights on in the pathway from the living room to the bedroom alright, but that's why I said I made better of my FEAR and not got away with my fear.
It's not just the physical FEAR of being alone. I can see how the FEAR of things unknown is fading out. Not to say I was not alarmed by the huge guy on the Broadway sidewalk last night who was walking ahead of me and suddenly turned around and said something. I am not even sure if he was talking to me, but all I know was I was walking faster towards the doors of my hotel which were less than a few paces away. That safety was at hand's reach was comforting.
It was not the case though on the other night in the same New York neighbourhood exactly 3 weeks ago. That was another Friday night, when I spent one hour, from midnight to 1 AM on the bench in the middle of Broadway at 94th, alongside a couple of homeless people. Not long ago, not even the day before that one, I would not have crossed the road to go to the other side if those same people were sitting there on that bench. I would have gone down the sidewalk on my side, a few blocks further even, to get to the famous tea and muchkins I so savor from Dunkin Donuts. That's another story...
I am just returning home after taking a second term exam and I am trying to think if I had FEAR of exams before. No. It was just a hatred for exams. I just did not want to take them, but I sure had the FEAR of failure. That was the killer, not only in my academic history, but on several counts in life. There was a time in my life when FEAR of failure did not let me seek what I wanted, did not let me ask for what I sought. That FEAR has gone too, I feel. Contrary to that FEAR, I feel it is the lack of that FEAR that is my bane now. I am not even afraid of making mistakes now. Actually, that is my only FEAR!
Not even snakes. No more can they frighten me. I like to believe there is an element of God there. I think the depiction of snakes in association with some of my favorite Hindu Gods has actually helped me get over the fear of snakes. The King Cobra still frequents my vision, most often when I get in the shower and close my eyes to let the wound up tensions in my body go. But I am not afraid of him. I respect him for what he is (he is a King after all). And if I met him for real, I wouldn't FEAR either staying still in common sense or bowing down to him in my religious sense. Either way, I don't think I will fight him, but I will let him decide what he wants to do. I am not afraid of what will happen right after...
I look up and think back 2 days. I was 30 minutes away from being on the bus to New York, the day before my exams. That is when I realized my wallet was sitting snug in his rightful place at home. He likes his place and I am sure he was extremely comfortable on a warm summer afternoon. Only it wasn't helping me or my uncontrollable wife. The drama that unfolded in the next hour or so was unnerving that I needed to take a nap all the way to New York, a 100 minute bus ride. But yes, I was on that bus to New York, sans my dear wallet.
How I have missed him in the last 2 days. Every often my hand would reach out to my back pocket (yet another of his comfortable resting places), only to remember that I had left him back home in Mt Laurel. So how did I manage to get to New York, spend 2 nights at a hotel, eat, ride the subway and even stop on the walkway at the Port Authority bus terminal to hand out a dollar to the old woman I see every time I pass that way? That is not another story, but the details are inconseqential. The essence my dear, is the absence of FEAR.
I am looking out into the sunlight gleaming off the stream of cars on the New Jersey Turnpike. They are not moving at the average 60 miles per hour. Now that causes some FEAR. I remember the last exam day of the first term (this one is the second). I was going home after the exam to get dressed up for a GALA that night and return to my favorite city, but a trailer truck on the NJTP that crashed into 7 or 8 other cars caused me to sit in a hot Greyhound Bus for 3 or 4 hours. But it is a FEAR that I will get over with patience. I have had plenty of that and may be it is just going to test me again.
It is strange how this FEAR now seems to be shifting from one place to another. I don't mind if I have to sit in this bus for a few hours but my FEAR is that my laptop's battery will drain in a finite amount of time and I will neither be able to continue writing, nor be able to listen to music (the battery on my MP3 player drained out last night!). And this is the NJTP. Not NH4 in India, where, if the traffic backs up a long way, soon there will be vendors of all kinds selling their wares from peanuts to hand held fans to the anxious travellers, who will also happily lap up items of interest. Yet again, my FEAR is, I have but 2 dollars left on my person. Dear Wallet, I have never missed you so much in my life. It's all of an hour that separates us and the traffic on the turnpike is threatening to make it a couple or more.
Luckily, we're moving (not stopped), even as I move from one FEAR to another. And right now, we are actually moving fast enough for me to move out of this FEAR on to the next one. Ah! There it is. My stomach growls. I realize I have not eaten lunch and if I don't get to my wallet on time and get some cash, I can't get close to food I need and that usually causes me a migraine. I wouldn't FEAR it so much if I could just go home and sleep it off. Right now, I can't. My car will be waiting for me at the Greyhound station in Mt Laurel and I will need to drive her to the beautiful city of Philadelphia where my wife and son and the one who I treat like my other son are waiting for me to go out and have a good time.
How I would like to go to Dunkin Donuts and sink my teeth into a egg-white flat bread sandwich right now. Now wait. Then there is the FEAR of cholesterol. It is like some kind of satan who is lurking around me and threatening me from having a good life and eating all my favorite food. How I restricted myself to only one aloo tikki yesterday at the Indian buffet lunch is a wonder I can't explain but I am certain that devil cholesterol has something to with it.
The battery sign on my laptop just dropped some blue and gained white. 31 minutes left, it says. Given that I am listening to music also through the laptop, I don't think the 31 will be a true 31, it may be even 13 and there is no running from that. Right now, it seems like crawling would even be better, because we have actually stopped. I look out the window to see if I can spot the peanut vendors. I can use some now. I can actually use a full Indian buffet right now. The choice really is between death by cholesterol and death by hunger. I'd like to push death out a little so it gives me a chance to fight back the cholesterol.
We are crawling. That is good. And I still have 26 mins before I lose sound and sight. I am desperately hoping I can catch a glimpse of the green sign that tells me what exit is next on the turnpike (before I lose my senses). But all I can see is the back of a huge bus that is drudging along right ahead of us. That the average seat area occuppied by the co-passengers on my left and right is one and a half is not helping either. Ah! I spot an exit. Alas! It is only a service area. And one that a Greyhound bus will not pull into. One that I will not know what to do in even if this bus pulls up into, thanks to penury.
I adjust my body a little into the half seat I have got. My right leg is sore from hanging out of the seat for the last hour and a half, but you know what, I am just being mean. The gentleman next to me probably did not do anything himself to be so large. In fact, he has been extremely decent (he was the only one who offered me the space next to him to hang from!).
We're actually moving. I don't know if it is a mirage and I certainly hope it isn't. The lanes on the turnpike have just merged (I mean the ones for trucks, buses and cars and the one for cars only), so my guess is it is at least another 30 miles to exit 4 and that's 30 minutes at a reasonable average of 60 miles per hour. I've been doing too much of math and stats lately and I can tell. 13 minutes to go on my laptop. I FEAR that I will lose all I wrote so I hit Alt F and S. Again!
The shuffle function on my MP3 player gave me a song I don't savor too much, so I chose another one. A true favorite. Rasave Unnai Nambi from Mudhal Mariyadhai. Orange light blinking, a sign of danger. Hopefully, this song will see itself through and I will go out in style. Right now, I FEAR I may not even get halfway through it. I am counting every second. At least the bus is moving at a fair clip, so my wait time right after I shut down won't be much. Well, how bad can it be. A few hours?
My laptop is threatening to hibernate and I gotta go. It's been a long bus ride and my laptop has stayed alive all the while giving me the pleasure of writing this and the music, so I can't complain. But just as I take my mind away from this for a moment, I realise how sweaty and stinky I am. And I am going to Penn's Landing for the Indian Independence Day celebrations, where there are supposed to be thousands of Indians today (and some beautiful women too!). Am I going to look good? Just my next FEAR...
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
How I got 36 hours in a Day!
How lucky am I that I got 36 hours in a day?
Quite lucky I must say, because I got a lot accomplished today.
"But how?", I 'm sure you are asking yourself.
It all started when my friend from the far-east first wished me Happy Birthday. My birthday is today, June 10, but this was just after noon on Tuesday, June 9. Well, the math is kinda simple. My friend lives in Singapore where it was already past 1200 AM on June 10 and so the wish was legitimate. And that is when it hit me that somewhere in the world, it is 12 AM even when it is only 12 Noon in the USA.
And after all it was my Birthday. So I decided to make every minute from that point on memorable, till my day actually ended at 12 midnight EST on June 10, 2009. And for those who are weak in math, that is a full 36 hours !!!
30 of those 36 are already past and I have had a great time indeed, every minute of the way. And I am sitting on my couch trying to plan the next six and how I can get the best out of them, while my wife is making cupcakes and my son has just made his 3rd birthday card for me.
How lucky am I, for having been given 36 hours in a day? Especially given that it is my 36th Birthday !!!
Quite lucky I must say, because I got a lot accomplished today.
"But how?", I 'm sure you are asking yourself.
It all started when my friend from the far-east first wished me Happy Birthday. My birthday is today, June 10, but this was just after noon on Tuesday, June 9. Well, the math is kinda simple. My friend lives in Singapore where it was already past 1200 AM on June 10 and so the wish was legitimate. And that is when it hit me that somewhere in the world, it is 12 AM even when it is only 12 Noon in the USA.
And after all it was my Birthday. So I decided to make every minute from that point on memorable, till my day actually ended at 12 midnight EST on June 10, 2009. And for those who are weak in math, that is a full 36 hours !!!
30 of those 36 are already past and I have had a great time indeed, every minute of the way. And I am sitting on my couch trying to plan the next six and how I can get the best out of them, while my wife is making cupcakes and my son has just made his 3rd birthday card for me.
How lucky am I, for having been given 36 hours in a day? Especially given that it is my 36th Birthday !!!
Thursday, April 9, 2009
The Long and Short of It!
Talk about short names, I have my parents to thank for naming me Suri. Legend has it that I was born on a Sunday and hence the name, but then I was born after the sunset, 7 pm to be exact, and hence my color!!! Lucky for me, my wife seemed to like a completely contrasting companion, so here I am happily married for 8 something years, touchwood...
Not to talk so fast and be so content, there is a darker side of the story (just like my birth time and colour). My official name is Lakshminarayan Balasubramaniam (as you can clearly see). The tough part is I live in the USA. Tough, not for me, but for the people of this country. One of my American friends says my name is worth 5000 points on Scrabble.
Where it starts get a tad frustrating is when I get on the phone with the phone company or the insurance company. Thanks for calling AAA, could I have your first name please? And then I have to go L for Larry, A for Alpha, K for Kilo, S for Sam, H for Hotel, M for Mike, I for India, N for Nancy, A for Alpha, R for River, A for Alpha, Y for Yellow, A for Alpha and N for Nancy. Is that cool? No hold on. Some of these customer service representatives miss something I said and then I have to repeat it from where they lost out.
And they don't stop with that, they are a determined lot, you see. Thank you sir, may I have your last name please. So this time I have to warn them. It is equally long, so this time I go,,,,, B for Boy,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, L for Larry,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, S for Sam,,,,, U for Unifom,,,,, B for Boy,,,,, R for River,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, M for Mike,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, N for Nancy,,,,, I for India,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, M for Mike..... Did you get that? I think I did and how may I help you today. So to get me started on the phone with anyone here in the US, it takes me quite a while...
But you know the utility part of this rigmarole? My son started learning to count with the question, How many As are there in Appa's name?
It's 848 AM on the morning of Thursday 9 April 09 and it's a bright sunny morning in Mt Laurel, New Jersey.
Whoever you are reading this, I hope your day is as Sunny and Bright too!!!
L for Larry... I mean, Suri
Not to talk so fast and be so content, there is a darker side of the story (just like my birth time and colour). My official name is Lakshminarayan Balasubramaniam (as you can clearly see). The tough part is I live in the USA. Tough, not for me, but for the people of this country. One of my American friends says my name is worth 5000 points on Scrabble.
Where it starts get a tad frustrating is when I get on the phone with the phone company or the insurance company. Thanks for calling AAA, could I have your first name please? And then I have to go L for Larry, A for Alpha, K for Kilo, S for Sam, H for Hotel, M for Mike, I for India, N for Nancy, A for Alpha, R for River, A for Alpha, Y for Yellow, A for Alpha and N for Nancy. Is that cool? No hold on. Some of these customer service representatives miss something I said and then I have to repeat it from where they lost out.
And they don't stop with that, they are a determined lot, you see. Thank you sir, may I have your last name please. So this time I have to warn them. It is equally long, so this time I go,,,,, B for Boy,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, L for Larry,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, S for Sam,,,,, U for Unifom,,,,, B for Boy,,,,, R for River,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, M for Mike,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, N for Nancy,,,,, I for India,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, M for Mike..... Did you get that? I think I did and how may I help you today. So to get me started on the phone with anyone here in the US, it takes me quite a while...
But you know the utility part of this rigmarole? My son started learning to count with the question, How many As are there in Appa's name?
It's 848 AM on the morning of Thursday 9 April 09 and it's a bright sunny morning in Mt Laurel, New Jersey.
Whoever you are reading this, I hope your day is as Sunny and Bright too!!!
L for Larry... I mean, Suri
Monday, February 23, 2009
The Apple and The White Fence!
How many of you parents remember the story of Tom Sawyer? It is one story I read in my childhood that never left my mind. And it is also one of the very first stories that I told my child.
I don't even remember how old he was but one night he came to me and said, "Tell me a Story". My first reaction to this was, "Wait Kanna, Amma will come and tell you a story". I was tired and it had been my wife's job to do all the reading and storytelling. But tonight was a different story and tired as I might I have been, my little fellow was determined it had to be me doing the storytelling.
I did not have to think much because Tom Sawyer was kinda my HERO from my childhood days so that's obviously the first name that came to mind. And so, sleepy me started off on this journey with Tom Sawyer and how he was a naughty and lazy fellow. I slowly went on to how he was so naughty that his mom gave him a punishment on a fine saturday morning and asked him to paint the fence white.
Very soon I was into how his friends came along and how Tom tricked his friends into painting the fence for him while they still ended up parting with all the wonderful things that they brought along. OK, timeout, I know all of you parents have already read Mark Twain's Adventures of Tom Sawyer, so what's this all about? Is this some kind of trick?
No, not really. But the twist in the tale is that I was telling this kadhai in tamil. Picture this. "Indha Tom irundhaan illai Tomu?". And so on. At some point, the only things I remembered the friends had to trade were the apple and the marbles, but I kind of let my imagination run wild and started saying balloon and chocolate and anything else that came to my mind. More so, I started adding things that my son liked like toy trains.
I had gone through a whole bunch of stuff and my exhaustion wasn't getting any better. The time had come for this story to end but my son was so excited about this story that he wanted more and he wasn't feeling a bit sleepy himself. I was soon running out of things that Tom Sawyer's friends brought him that day and at some point, I paused to think of what else I could say and that's all I knew.
The next thing I knew was I woke up the next morning to see my son and wife, happily asleep next to me. No, this is not tamil cinema style and it was not a dream. I thought about the previous night and how I weaved this Tom Sawyerin Attagasangal to my son and it put a smile on my face. Sure enough, I had a great day.
If anyone of you reading this has not read Tom Sawyer, it's still not too late. It's a great read. And for those of who you know the story, try telling it to your child in your mother tongue. I am sure you will enjoy the experience as much as your child does.
Happy Storytelling!
I don't even remember how old he was but one night he came to me and said, "Tell me a Story". My first reaction to this was, "Wait Kanna, Amma will come and tell you a story". I was tired and it had been my wife's job to do all the reading and storytelling. But tonight was a different story and tired as I might I have been, my little fellow was determined it had to be me doing the storytelling.
I did not have to think much because Tom Sawyer was kinda my HERO from my childhood days so that's obviously the first name that came to mind. And so, sleepy me started off on this journey with Tom Sawyer and how he was a naughty and lazy fellow. I slowly went on to how he was so naughty that his mom gave him a punishment on a fine saturday morning and asked him to paint the fence white.
Very soon I was into how his friends came along and how Tom tricked his friends into painting the fence for him while they still ended up parting with all the wonderful things that they brought along. OK, timeout, I know all of you parents have already read Mark Twain's Adventures of Tom Sawyer, so what's this all about? Is this some kind of trick?
No, not really. But the twist in the tale is that I was telling this kadhai in tamil. Picture this. "Indha Tom irundhaan illai Tomu?". And so on. At some point, the only things I remembered the friends had to trade were the apple and the marbles, but I kind of let my imagination run wild and started saying balloon and chocolate and anything else that came to my mind. More so, I started adding things that my son liked like toy trains.
I had gone through a whole bunch of stuff and my exhaustion wasn't getting any better. The time had come for this story to end but my son was so excited about this story that he wanted more and he wasn't feeling a bit sleepy himself. I was soon running out of things that Tom Sawyer's friends brought him that day and at some point, I paused to think of what else I could say and that's all I knew.
The next thing I knew was I woke up the next morning to see my son and wife, happily asleep next to me. No, this is not tamil cinema style and it was not a dream. I thought about the previous night and how I weaved this Tom Sawyerin Attagasangal to my son and it put a smile on my face. Sure enough, I had a great day.
If anyone of you reading this has not read Tom Sawyer, it's still not too late. It's a great read. And for those of who you know the story, try telling it to your child in your mother tongue. I am sure you will enjoy the experience as much as your child does.
Happy Storytelling!
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